


Dead Don't Sleep

by Vizhi0n



Series: Dead Don't Sleep [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blood and Gore, Bondage, Dirty Talk, F/F, F/M, Multi, Or am I, Oral Sex, Rough play, Slow Burn, Threesome, everything i enjoy, idk what to call this, just kidding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:07:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 50
Words: 78,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6649393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vizhi0n/pseuds/Vizhi0n
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don't blink. Don't even breathe. It'll all be over soon."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Contact

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first attempt at a Negan/TWD story (in honor of the season 6 finale that airs tonight.) I'm still working on whether or not I'm going to combine the comic with the show, but I assure you, characters like Daryl will make an appearance. This story starts about a year into the outbreak, so probably around the time Rick and co. are settling in to Herschel's farm. Hope you guys enjoy!

Miracles were rare, nowadays, and it had taken some sort of miracle to keep Turtle's entire family alive this long.

Her father, her mother. Her little sister, heading towards her sixth birthday, and her brother - her twin. A year and a half after the dead began to walk, the neighborhood Turtle had once known - Pinecreek - was a desolate wasteland of vehicles and toppled homes and the rotting corpses of the fallen undead, dispatched by her father from an upstairs window.

Her brother and her father would go out and scavenge food. They'd been the first to stock up during the outbreak, allowing them to miss the initial panic as people flooded the streets in search for supplies and assistance, unknowingly drawing the attention of those already limping and biting. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. No military assistance came, no airstrike took out their neighborhood. It was just them, now, in their feebly gated community.

So, they'd lasted.

Until around…was it a Sunday? The Sabbath? A day of rest.

There wasn't such a thing as rest. Not anymore. They'd gotten too comfortable, too…adjusted to the world, but in all the wrong ways. Turtle had taught herself how to wield a kitchen knife, just for safety purposes. The small arsenal of weapons belonged to her father and brother, and occasionally, her mother. Turtle was mainly the babysitter.

Pinecreek was eerily silent, that day. The moaning of the roamers - as her brother had named them - was a low hum. Turtle had gotten used to it.

Her mother was cooking, and her father was outside, adjusting the wrought iron gate around their home, which had once been used to contain their dog. As one can imagine, the dog had become roamer lunch almost immediately. Dogs were too happy, too naive.

Turtle was reading. Her sister was doing the same, lips twisted into a grimace as she concentrated. Her brother? Lord knew where he was.

Turtle heard the shouting first. She reacted, tossing aside her book and starting towards the door, bypassing her brother as he began descending the staircase towards the living room.

"Was that dad?"

"Think so. May be a roamer - might want to get your gun."

The door swung open before Turtle could even extend her hand.

_I should have run._

Her fathers body was face down in the grass, leaking blood. He had a knife in one hand. His killer towered over Turtle, brandishing his own weapon. As apposed to her fathers, this knife was drenched in crimson.

"He gave us a hard time," the man said. He was pale, with sunken eyes and a toothy smile, like a shark's. Unlike Turtle, his clothes were torn and ratty, yellowed from sweat. His stench filled the entire house.

Turtle backed away. She couldn't stop staring at her father - bloody and most certainly dead.

Turtle could only whimper. They had companions - three of them, all equally nasty and vicious looking. They reminded Turtle of the undead.

"Don't move, girl."

Turtle was in the middle of taking a step back. Behind her, dishes banged against each other as her mother continued to prepare dinner. Turtle's sister didn't seem too afraid, those she put down her book and sunk behind the couch, eyes wide.

The man stepped forward. The knife in his hand was suddenly very, very close to Turtle, closer than she was comfortable with. Her bones were stuck, rendered motionless by fear.

Her older brother chose that moment to stomp down the stairs. Whatever words he had were cut short when one of the brutes - a shorter man with a pair of glasses, raised his handgun and shot Turtle's brother dead.

Turtle's sister screamed. Her mother rushed towards the source of the gunshot stopping when she saw the corpse of her only son topple down the stairs.

She shrieked.

"Shut up!" the lead brute growled. He gestured for his three companions, and they sprang towards the three remaining females, fast as striking cobras. Strong hands grappled her neck and chest and arms, ultimately restraining her when she tried to fight back. Their disgusting scent acted almost like sensory deprivation. Turtle snarled and clawed at the arms wrapped around her.

They forced her to the ground, doing the same with her mother. Her sister didn't need to much convincing. She was sobbing.

"Let my girls go," Turtle's mother said with such malice that it made Turtle frightened. She was reaching a point of numbness, an almost zen-like experience. She could see the drops of blood pouring from the quarter sized hole in her brother's forehead. The bloody knife descending towards her seemed to be glistening.

"Kill the men, take the women," the head brute tapped his blade against Turtle's cheek. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds about right. Make you…useful again. We've been watching you. You haven't had to fight much, have you? You thought you were the smart folks, stocking up on everything in the beginning."

Turtle's mother didn't reply. The head brute was speaking directly to her, crouched down so he could meet her eye.

"We've lasted."

"Lasted? You count this as lasting? Hope you haven't made yourself too comfortable here, cause once the res of my boys arrive, we're going for a ride."

Turtle's sister sobbed, louder this time. The head brute grimaced, gripping his pistol tighter. Hr just stared for a moment, brows furrowed, as if thinking of something.

"How old is she? Five? Six?'

Turtle glared.

"Whose going to arrest me? There's a market for girls her age out there."

Turtle strained against the strong arms keeping her grounded. The leader met her gaze, finally.

"And you…You look fresh out of college. My type of woman. You, I'll keep. For myself," he shook his head, addressing Turtle's mother. "But you…not a market for old hags."

Turtle heard a gunshot. Her mothers head jerked back wildly, bloody spraying. She no longer had a face, Turtle realized.

Turtle cried out. Her cool broke, and her hands began to shake.

The leader snorted, standing back up. "Run a train on them, boys. Show em' how we do business."

~ ~ ~

Turtle's clothes were missing. Her shirt was gone, her panties hanging onto her bruised, thin hips.

Her sister's body was shoved into the corner, next to the body of her mother. The man had strangled her to death. Of course, he'd apologized.

_It's okay._

Turtle wished that the undead would bash down the walls of her home and devour them all. The emotions she felt no longer qualified as human.

_God will surely damn you._

"I'm keeping her. Yes, good. Nice," the lead brute chuckled. His belt lay abandoned next to Turtle's leg. He was flushed, grinning as the final, small moments of euphoria passed.

Turtle heard three sharp thuds against the front door. The two men on the living room couch leaped up, while the third looked towards his leader for guidance. The lead brute's face fell, and he raised a hand.

"Could it be the biters?" one of the men asked. He hissed, revealing his front teeth, which were nonexistent. "I bet it's biters. Or the dad. We got him in the head, right?"

"Killed him myself," the lead brute said. "Locked that fancy little gate of his, too. The only thing that would be able to get in-"

A low, unmistakably male voice shouted from beyond the door, "Jahova's Witness! Open up!

Guns clicked. Turtle, lying on her kitchen floor, bruised and bloodied, managed to sit up and lean against a cabinet so to get a better view.

"Fuck off!" the lead brute shouted. "Fuck off, or we shoot!"  
No reply. A few minutes passed.

Upstairs, something toppled over. Two of the men were up the stairs, disappearing around a corner.

They didn't come back. Their shrieks signaled their fate.

The man who leaped over the staircase railing was taller than all the me,n cleaner, and altogether menacing - his left hand gripped a knife while his other hand held a baseball bat, scratched and bloody, wrapped in links of barbed wire.

And it looked as if one swing hurt.

The man was rushed by one of Turtle's assailants. The bat flew in a wide arc, cracking the attacker across the skull. He staggered, groaned, and was downed by another blow. His head mimicked that of a smashed pumpkin.

The lead brute raised his gun. Turtle responded almost instinctively, lunging forward and smashing her body into the brute's back, throwing off his aim. The bullet sailed wide and shattered a window.

He was on her, now, gun abandoned, fingers gripping her throat and squeezing the life out of her.

_Can'tbreathecan'tbreathecan'tbreathe_

Turtle fell to the floor when the lead brute was forced to confront his massive, baseball bat wielding attacker. He lashed out with his knife, very nearly catching Turtle's rescuer in the ribs

The second swipe hit home. The blade dug into the man's shoulder, causing him to nearly drop his bat.

She had to help. This couldn't be one way battle. This couldn't be it.

Turtle hobbled across the floor and sunk her teeth into the lead brute's neck. Her teeth slid through muscle and sinew, the blood pumping like a water hose. Turtle's savior raised her bat swung, taking the lead brute's jaw with it.

Turtle released her hold on the lead brute. When he fell, she sunk of the floor with him.

Her once tidy kitchen was now a stream of death and blood, and she had taken part of it. There was a body in every corner, now.

Her savior crouched down next to her, shock by her topless form. She was gaunt, she knew. Bruised.

"Hey. What's your name."

"Turtle. It's not my real name. People call me that, I guess."

"You guess?" the man's voice was strong and hard. "Well, fuck, Turtle. Seem's like you got yourself into a lot of trouble. They're all dead, don't worry."

Turtle nodded. The shock was still there. Her mouth wouldn't move right and she felt like vomiting, but couldn't. The stench of blood was assaulting her nostrils.

"Your name…?" Turtle mumbled. Her rescuer, her savior, replied.

"Negan."


	2. Insistent

Someone was knocking on the bathroom door.

"Hey, T? Open up. I have to take a shit."

Turtle winced at Negan's voice. She braced her arms on the sink, sucking in deep gulps of air. She didn't want to move - couldn't move. The blood pounding behind her ears muffled every sound. Negan's insistent growls and the sound of him banging Lucille against the door seemed distant.

"Don't make me bust this fucking door down. I swear to shit, I'll do it if you don't open the fuck up."

Turtle had managed to avoid Negan for six weeks. Six weeks without making eye contact, hiding in the shadows of Sanctuary and letting the saviors do their work. She hidden herself, shielded herself from prying eyes. And now, in an instant, all of that was disappearing.

"I'm going to start counting. Back the fuck up."

Turtle reached over and twisted the lock, allowing Negan to push the door open with Lucille. He leaned against the doorframe, eying Turtle with suspicion.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Turtle didn't reply.

Negan waved a hand, eyebrows raised. He whistled, snapping his fingers inches from Turtle's face. "Hello? Did you shit your brain outta your asshole or something? I asked you a question."

"Nothing."

"You're in here doing nothing? Excellent. Fan-fucking-tastic," Negan leaned forward. "You and I both know that's a lie."

"It was too loud out there. To many people. I needed to be somewhere quiet."

"You could have just fucking said that. I'm not gonna bite your head off."

Turtle couldn't resist rolling her eyes. She sighed and met Negan's cold gaze. "You've bitten plenty of heads off since I came here. Trust me, you do bite."  
Negan's lips twitched upward into a grin. "But I haven't bitten you."

"Not yet."

"You think that I'll hurt you?" Negan let Lucille rest across his shoulder. "Are you scared of me?"

Turtle didn't reply.

"Holy fuck. I can't fucking believe this - after I went out of my way to save your ass…"

"You didn't have to save me."

"But I did. I saw what those men were doing to you. They fucked with your family, right? Left your father for dead. Violated you," Negan's voice dropped to a hiss. "I saved you because I wanted to."

"I suppose I owe you."

Negan grinned. Turtle craned her neck to look up at him, puffing out her chest. It only made her appear a fraction larger than she actually was - Negan towered over her, still. And he was close - so incredibly close that Turtle could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"You've been here six weeks. Sitting on your ass, eating my food. You have to contribute, Turtle. You need a job. I can't just let you fuck around while everyone else is working."

"Then give me a job."

"Well, I can't, cause I don't know what your fucking good at. Gimme something," Negan gestured. "You can't fight for shit."

"I can scrap."

"Yeah, yeah. Ripping that fuckers neck open definitely counted as scrapping. Anything else you got?"

Turtle looked down, fiddling with her fingers. "My dad was an EOD technician. He…uh, he was really into explosives. So am I."

Negan raised his eyebrows. "You can make shit explode?"

"When I was younger, some friends and I used to play with fireworks. A lot. I was the only person who bothered researching effective ways to make sure that we didn't all die while allowing us to, you know, blow stuff up. I'm mediocre, Negan. I'm not military. I played around a lot, and that was it."

"Well, do you think that I was a fucking major league hitter before this shit went down?" Negan raised Lucille. "You've gotta work with the shit you have. The shit you did for fun is now your job. Understand?"

"I'm going to need a whole lot of fuel. Fuel and fireworks and whatever else you can find. And someplace away from here, someplace secluded."

"We can do that."

Turtle stared. Negan still wasn't moving - he looked torn between talking and kicking Turtle from the bathroom so he could do his business.

"I know what I have to do," Turtle said slowly. "I'm not scared of you, Negan. I'm just scared of this world and what it can do to people."  


"Uh-huh. Makes sense," Negan grimaced. "Fuckin' newbies. Now get out. We'll talk about this later."

Turtle stumbled from the restroom, hearing Negan slam the door behind him. She wrapped her arms around herself and began walking down the hallway, keeping her head down as a few Saviors passed her with puzzled looks.

She didn't know where to go or when to stop, so she just walked.


	3. Discovery

"There's a safe haven about six miles from Sanctuary. We'll all go, see if it's suitable….set up arrangements and all that other boring shit," Negan paced in front of Turtle, Leo, and Dwight, Lucille swung across his shoulder. "It has all kinds of fuckin' goodies."

Dwight glanced at Turtle. She cringed at the hard stare he was giving her, desperately trying not to meet his gaze. Nothing about him, not even the horrific burn on his face, had frightened her until just about now.

"We aren't just leaving her," Dwight said slowly. "Dropping her off and ditching…"

"Don't get your panties all in a wad, Dwight. Jesus fuck, you really think I'm that fucking stupid?"

Dwight's face fell. He coughed and looked away. Turtle resisted the urge to smirk, or better yet, laugh.

"Leo will stay with her," Negan gestured to the man on the opposite side of Dwight. He was a portly, bald man with an unassuming face.

"We leave in an hour. Get your shit and gear up," Negan met Turtle's eye. "I'm trusting you with this shit, Turtle. Don't fuck up - don't fuck us up."

"I'm playing with fireworks. I'll try not to," Turtle murmured. "I….intend to do my best for you…boss."

"Boss?" Negan let out a loud laugh that caused Turtle to flinch. Next to her, Dwight smirked. "I fucking like that. Wish my men were as submissive as you. Fucking kiss-ass."

Turtle shifted, leaning her weight on her left leg. Once again, she tried to puff out her chest and look stronger. Negan, for once, took notice, letting Lucille drop to rest against his leg.

"You aren't tough, girl. Quit trying to act like you fucking are. I've seen people like you act a fool and get themselves killed. Don't let that be you."

"I'm here, aren't I?" Turtle countered. "I wouldn't be here if…"

"You wouldn't be here if I hadn't saved your sorry ass."

Turtle let out a breath. Negan gestured for her to follow, dismissing Dwight and Leo to ready their vehicle. Turtle obeyed, trekking next to him as he led her down the hallways of the compound. Down the hallways of Turtle's new home.

"You know how to use a gun?" Negan asked. 

Turtle nodded. "Only a handgun. That's all my dad managed to teach me."

"You'll learn, in time," Negan nodded his head, reaching into his waistband and pulling out his gun. He thrust it towards Turtle, and she took it by the hilt. "You sure as fuck will learn. But for now, this is yours."

"I can't-"

"You can, and you will. Don't fucking argue with me. We can't have your ass dead, now can we?"

Turtle didn't reply.

"No. We sure as hell can't."

~ ~ ~

Turtle reached forward and flicked Negan in the ear. He jumped, gripping Lucille, awoken by Turtle's playful quip. Next to him, Dwight rolled his eyes, hands gripping the steering wheel.

They were halfway through the trip and had yet to cross a single roamer. Turtle could see them, moaning, stumbling silhouettes in the trees. The road before them was clear, littered with dead leaves and debris, but passable.

"The fuck was that for?" Negan grumbled.

Turtle shrugged.

"Since when did you become a fucking comedian?" Negan rolled his shoulders, working out the kinks in his neck. "Fuck...and I was just about to fall asleep, to."

"It's a good think she woke you up," Dwight said. "We're here."

The truck pulled to a stop. Negan hopped out first, swinging Lucille and sending the brains of a stumbling roamer splashing across the truck door. Dwight followed, then Leo, then Turtle, coaxed from the interior of the truck by Negan's barking voice.

"Excuse me? This is _your_ time we're wasting. Come the fuck on. Don't be a pussy," Negan gripped Turtle's arm, though not too hard. Dwight trudged behind him, gun dangling from his fingers. Thrust from the confines of the truck, Turtle felt vulnerable. The gun at her hip and the knife in her belt gave her no comfort.

The trees began to thin, and Turtle soon found herself stepping onto torn train tracks, withered, and held down by rusting bolts. A metro car lay abandoned next to the last stop it appeared to have made. Just a few meters away the earth opened up into a tunnel that swallowed the remaining tracks.

"We are not going in there," Turtle said, her mouth dry. "No way."

"Yes fucking way we are. We cleared this place out months ago," Negan replied. "We'll be fine. Right, Leo?"

"I was here," Leo reassured Turtle, though it wasn't a convincing type of reassurance. He sounded more as if he were making a statement than anything else. "We killed a bunch of biters. Set up barricades on the north side, let a downed train block the east side."

"Come on," Negan tugged on Turtle's sleeve. "Let's go."

Turtle didn't move.

"Let's fucking go," Negan barked. "Oh my God. You're not fucking pussying out on me, are you?"

"No. No, I'm not," Turtle took a step forward, then stopped. Her heart was pounding. The ground shifted beneath her, and her cheeks felt very, very hot as Negan, once again, pulled on her sleeve. She was very aware of Dwight's stern gaze on her.

"Dwight, Leo, go ahead of us. Make sure everything is clear so we don't get our asses eaten," Negan waved a hand. As quickly as Dwight and Leo disappeared, Negan was in front of Turtle, all but glaring down at her. "I'm very temped to knock your ass out and drag you down that tunnel."

"Or you could just leave me here. Find someone else who can make bombs..."

"Not happening. You're going."

"What if I said that I'm scared."

"Suck it the fuck up. No such thing as being scared anymore," Negan snarled. "You chose to be here."

"I didn't have any other choice. You said it yourself...I have to contribute. I have to give something back - I owe something back to you, since, you know...you saved my life."

From within the tunnel, someone shouted. It sounded like Dwight.

Then, gunfire. More sounds - shrieks of pain. A female shriek, followed by curses and the moaning and the undead.

Negan took off like a rocket, but stopped halfway when he noticed Turtle hadn't moved with the same sense of urgency. She still stood, feet planted on the ground, hands trembling.

"Fuck!" Negan cursed, holding Lucille in a vice grip. "Listen, I don't give a fuck whether or not you're afraid. To be honest, I've been shitting my pants since the whole fucking world decided to fuck everyone in the ass. Yes, you owe me shit. Yes, you're gonna have to make that shit up to me, and you are going to, right fucking now. Right fucking now, by following me and making sure I don't get my ass shot. Can you do that? If not, then we're finished and I'm leaving your ass here to be food for those undead fucks!" 

Turtle stood, motionless.

"Wake the fuck up!"

Turtle, fingers trembling, unsheathed her gun and sprinted after Negan, the gunfire from within the tunnel growing louder and louder, sharp flashes of light illuminating the tunnel like bursts of fireworks.


	4. End of the Line

Turtle followed Negan with haste, gun drawn. Dwight's shouts grew increasingly louder, and the tunnel became alit with muzzle flashes of firing guns. Turtle saw Negan raise Lucille and bring it down upon the head of a roamer. Turtle raised her gun, fingers shaking, ready to fire.

So she thought. She stayed slightly behind Negan, making sure she could at least provide him with some sort of protection. He seemed to be doing fine by himself, jogging up to Dwight as he picked himself from the train tracks. Next to him, Leo lay, a quarter sized hole blown clean through his forehead.

"What the fuck happened?" Negan asked. He didn't bother to help Dwight stand - the younger man huffed and sat up, legs crossed as he slowly began catching his breath.

"We got jumped," Dwight replied grimly. "Four of them… I think. I don't know."

"We had this place clear," Negan growled. "We had everything blocked off, every entrance sealed. No fucking way in hell could they could have found this place-"

"They must have been watching you," Turtle said, resisting the urge to vomit. Leo's face barely looked recognizable. In the distance, she could hear faint moans and the shuffling of uneven feet. Farther down the tunnel, the undead were approaching. She added, "They must have been watching you, and they must have slipped through at the last minute. There's a room, right, that you were going to use?"

"We had two platforms cut off," Dwight answered. He pushed himself to his feet, pointing down the tunnel. "Fortunately, that where…they ran off to."

"Well, fuck," Negan groaned. "What the fuck are we standing here for?"

"We're going after them?" Turtle glanced up at Negan, scowling. "After they killed Leo?"

"Yes," Negan nudged Turtle in the side with Lucille. "Yes we are. You and me, sweetheart. Dwight's taking a road trip."

"What?"

"Head back," Negan instructed. "Gather twenty of our guys and come back here. If we're not back by nightfall, come looking."

"What if there's more than twenty?" Turtle implored. "Then what-"

"There aren't."

"How do you know?" Turtle asked. Dwight stepped back, watching them with wary eyes. Turtle couldn't believe her burst of confidence - she stepped right up to Negan, tilting her head and craning her neck to look him in the eye. He stood his ground, eyebrows raised.

"You really think this place can sustain an entire fucking community? There's no running water, and only one generator. Plus, it smells like shit," Negan said calmly. "This was a stopping point for these people, and nothing more," he glanced over his shoulder and barked, "Dwight? What the fuck are you still doing here? Fuck off."

Dwight nodded, shooting Turtle a final glance before disappearing towards the wilderness. Turtle tensed immediately as she felt Negan's eyes on her, hot and heavy. While Dwight wasn't the best company to have, Turtle felt far more comfortable around him than around Negan.

Negan gripped her arm, suddenly, pulling her forward with him. "I'm trusting you with this," he quipped.

"Yeah. I get it," Turtle yanked herself free from his hold, gun tight between her fingers. "I'm here as your backup, not vice-versa."  
"Yeah, right," Negan grumbled. "Protectin' me my ass."

They approached the first platform with caution, lightly hopping over the rails. Negan hoisted himself up first, extending a gloved hand for Turtle to grasp. Hesitantly, she took it, and with one strong motion he pulled her onto the platform next to him. Turtle wrinkled her nose at the sudden smell of death and decay. A body lay in the corner, head lolled to the side. It was long rotted, evidence of knife wounds on its chest and finally, it's skull.

The platform floor was blackened from dust and grime, having gone ages without a proper cleaning. Old newspapers once proudly displaying what was new and upcoming in D.C - from politics to world events - clung to the staircase leading up to the main concourse.

"Alright," Turtle said. "We looked. They aren't here-"

"Nope," Negan snapped. "Get your fine ass back over here. We aren't done looking yet."

Turtle's cheeks blazed red, and she heaved a sigh, following Negan up the staircase. A roamer was repeatedly straining against a jammed turnstile, attracting the attention of his dozen or so friends behind him. The turnstile was keeping the roamer and his friends from flooding the concourse, giving Negan and Turtle a clear path to the next platform.

They were halfway to the next staircase when Negan stopped her, all but shoving her behind an electronic display case that had long since stopped working. He held Lucille firmly, nodding towards the very staircase they'd been approaching.

Two people, a man and a woman, armed and dressed in heavy attire, were walking up into the concourse. The two appeared to be talking in hushed voices so not to tempt the roamers pushing against the turnstiles.

They had split second decision to make. Well, Negan had a split second decision to make, and as always, he went down the route of outright violence.

He gave Turtle half a second to launch her own attack. Negan moved as the couple walked upon their hiding spot, leaping forward and swinging Lucille hard against the man's chest.

Turtle leapt upon the woman, tackling her like a linebacker and sending her gun skidding across the dirty floor. The woman was older, more experienced, and just a tad bit stronger. Her fist came up and caught Turtle in the nose.

Immediately, Turtle felt the cartilage crunch and blood began to flow freely. It dripped onto the woman like a stream, and Turtle finally remembered that she had a gun. A gun she could use.

She gripped her weapon and bashed the woman across the face once, twice, three times. The woman's grip on her loosened as she struggled to stay conscious.

Next to her, Negan had the man pinned on his stomach. With a twist, Negan snapped the man's arm as if it were as fragile as a twig. The man cried out in pain.

"Stop!" the woman sobbed. Blood flew from her mouth, splattering against Turtle's cheeks. "Stop it! Please, stop it!"

"Hey, fuck," Negan cursed and used Lucille to push the man back to the floor where he lay, clutching his arm and moaning. Negan seemed a bit flustered, surprised by Turtle's brutality and the woman's harsh pleas. "Lay off her, Turtle."

Turtle obeyed. She stood, hands shaking as she aimed her gun down at the woman while Negan's eyes scanned the concourse, searching for any late attackers. When he finally came to the conclusion that they were alone, he focused his attention back on the couple.

"On your knees," Negan instructed.

The couple struggled to sit up, but they finally managed to sit before Negan, heads raised. The man, dark skinned with a thick beard and cold eyes, kept his gaze on Negan while holding his bent arm. The woman, most likely his spouse, seemed hysterical, sniffing back tears, her blonde hair plastered to her face.

"Let's all calm the fuck down," Negan said, letting out a breath. He surveyed the couple with hooded eyes. "I'll admit, we did attack first. Or, did we? I wasn't there when you blasted one of my men to pieces."

The couple was silent. The woman had begun to weep quietly.

"Not gonna say shit? You two aren't alone," Negan leaned forward. "We counted four people, not two. Four, not two. You wanna give us a fucking clue, huh?"

"It's only us," the man said sharply. "Just us."

"I don't buy this shit," Negan shook his head. "What about you, Turtle? You buy what the fuckface is saying?"

Turtle shook her head, one hand holding the gun, the other desperately trying to stem the flow of blood from her nose. 

Negan took notice of this. "Fuck," he said, concerned.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Turtle gurgled. "I'm fine."

"You hit her, right?" Negan swung Lucille in the woman's direction, and his grin, which was once playful, transformed into something devious and nasty. "I was going to let you live. I really was. Sucks ass for you, to be honest."

"No-" the man began. Turtle instinctively rotated towards him, allowing Negan to face the woman fully. Turtle kept her eyes on the man, pressing her lips into a thin line as Negan jauntily twirled Lucille in his hands.

The woman's sobs increased. Negan rolled his eyes. In a single motion he raised Lucille and brought it down upon the woman's head, her skull cracking open like a watermelon hit with a sledgehammer. She began to shriek, but it was a distorted sound, cut short by a gurgle of blood. The man began pleading, shouting, and when he lunged towards Negan, Turtle immediately planted one foot against his chest and sent him sprawling.

The sound of the woman's head caving in like a fallen pie crust sent shivers down Turtle's spine. She'd only seen Negan execute a victim via Lucille once, and at that point, she'd still been squeamish. She'd puked. Now, she was used to it, though not as used to it as she wanted to be.

The woman's head was a mushy mess. She twitched once, then fell still. The man looked upon her corpse, horrified as his body jolted into some sort of shock. He pushed himself away from his spouse's body, clawing at the ground. Turtle followed him, aiming the gun and saying as viciously as possible, "There's more of you. There's always more."

"I told you the truth. We're the only ones," the man cried. "Please, it's only us!"

"Liar."

Metal crashed against concrete. Just a few yards away the turnstiles collapsed. Roamers, way, way more than a dozen, toppled into the concourse, mouths hanging open as they headed towards the first sign of food.

Them.


	5. Holding

"Well, fuck," Negan said, far to calmly for Turtle's liking. "This is an ordeal now."

Turtle raised her gun at the approaching roamers and fired. Three dropped dead. Three out of…two dozen, three dozen? More than Turtle could count. And they were headed towards the three…

No, two of them. When Turtle looked, she saw that the man was gone. She saw him disappear down the stairs, towards the next platform.

"Follow him!" Turtle instructed, tugging on Negan's elbow. When didn't move, Turtle shouted, "Follow him, down the stairs. Trust me!"

Negan took one glance at the approaching roamers, and heeded Turtle's advice. He gripped her arm and practically dragged her towards the stairs, swinging Lucille and knocking a roamer from their path. They entered the next platform, frantic, as the moans of the undead became increased in volume.

"Shit," Negan cursed. Roamers had flooded the tracks, blocking off their only viable exit. They spat and clawed at the edge of the platform, arms reaching out, as if inviting Negan and Turtle into an embrace. Turtle peered across the platform, searching for the next flight of stairs that would lead them up and out of their confined space.

She found what she was looking, but instead of an exit, she saw the barrel of a gun as another man - different from the one they'd held hostage - began spraying gunfire down onto the platform below.

Negan reacted first, diving to the floor and taking Turtle with him. Bullets chewed up the floor, and with each shot they were closer and closer to hitting their mark. Turtle felt something slightly graze her shoulder just as Negan shoved her behind a toppled, cracked stone bench.

They were pinned. A few roamers pursuing them from behind were clumsily attempting to traverse the staircase, drawn to the sound of gunfire. The roamers on the tracks were still groaning, hands reaching towards nothing.

Turtle cocked her handgun and turned, taking a clear shot at their attacker. The second shot struck the man in the leg, and he cursed, leaping back. The wound didn't appear to be deadly, but before he could return fire, Turtle struck once more.

This time, the bullet caught him in the ribs and he was blown back, falling backwards onto the metal staircase, gun sliding from his hands. When she turned back around, she saw Negan dispatching roamers, swinging Lucille in wide arcs and caving in tender brains as if they were as fragile as a tomato.

"Up the stairs! Go!" Negan cried, backpedalling. Turtle darted from cover, gripping the handrail and bounding over the corpse on the receiving end of her bullet.

She reached the top, and something hit her like with the force of a speeding car. He arms flailed as she fell back, her head hitting the staircase hard enough that she saw stars. She toppled backwards, past the corpse once more and onto the grimy platform floor. The man from earlier was above her, the butt of his own gun positioned and ready to bash Turtle'e head into the ground.

Turtle gripped her pistol and raised it towards the man's face, forcing him to knock it from her hands, though not before she managed to pull the trigger and blow half his ear off. He roared, gun abandoned at his side, his hand wrapping around Turtle's throat in a vice grip.

"Negan!"

Turtle saw that he was occupied. He met her eye briefly, but was forced to confront the wave of roamers rapidly descending down the staircase towards him.

The man's face was pale, his ear pumping out blood like a fountain. Turtle saw a slight madness in his eyes. Whether or not Negan and Turtle were the cause of that madness was unclear.

He was cutting off her circulation. Turtle couldn't breathe. She reached up, fingers tense as she gripped his head with one hand. With a single jab, she dug her thumb into his eye, popping nerves and causing the man to loosen his grip, but not enough for Turtle to fully shake herself from his hold.

The man roamed and dragged Turtle as if she weighed nothing. She suddenly found her head dangerously close to the edge the platform, and she felt decayed hands questing through locks of her own hair. Cold, dead, unseeing eyes stared, seeing her as nothing other than food.

"Negan!" Turtle wailed. "Help!"

She couldn't see Negan from this angle. Couldn't hear him. He was most likely dead, and Turtle was going to join him soon.

Very, very soon.

The man grabbed Turtle's forearm, suddenly. He licked his lips, muscles straining as he forced Turtle closer and closer to the edge of the platform, towards those questing hands and gnashing teeth.

No. He wouldn't. No.

The man got his wish. A roamer took hold of Turtle's extended arm. She gave a shriek of terror and agony when she felt teeth rip open the skin of her forearm and clamp down onto her palm.

"You like that?" the man snarled.

"Turtle!"

Negan appeared behind the man, like an apparition. Turtle got a good, long look at Lucille as she embedded herself into the man's cheek. He stuttered, shocked, before Negan heaved him up and shoved him over the edge of the platform. He landed hard against the metal tracks, unable to move as dozens of the undead fell upon him.

"It has my arm," Turtle sobbed. She pulled at the roamer hell-bent on consuming her, screaming when chunks of flesh fell from her forearm. The pain was white hot, blinding, but the shock and trauma was keeping her conscious.

"Negan-"

"Hush. Look at me."

Turtle did, just as Negan brought down his broad knife. It took more than one slice, and Turtle's screams began to ebb away into whimpers, her body numb, her arm numb. She watched the roamer fall back, the severed limb clutched between his teeth.

Kill me. Oh, God, kill me.

IwannadieIwannadieIwannadie

` Turtle moaned as Negan ripped his scarf from around his neck, hastily tying it around Turtle's stump. Her eyes were open…why were they opened? She'd prayed to God to let her die, and as usual, he was ignoring her.

Please…

"Go," Turtle managed to say, breathless. Speaking was now a struggle. "Go."

"Fuck, no," Negan tightened the knot on the end of his scarf before hoisting Turtle up and carrying her like a baby. He rested Lucille against Turtle's lap, bounding up the staircase to the next concourse.

"Go," Turtle gasped, legs kicking as the pain increased, tenfold. She felt woozy. There was a lot of blood, she realized. It stuck to her clothes and it stuck to Negan's jacket as well, like a smear.

"Shut up," Negan said gruffly. "We're getting the fuck out of here. Both of us, no exceptions."

"Just let me die," Turtle whined.

"Turtle, so help me God, when all this blows over I'm beating your ass," Negan replied. Turtle barely heard him. Her eyes fell across the floor, her hearing dimmed as she began to slip into unconsciousness.

Sleep.

So, she slept.


	6. The Glass House

_"Dwight, hold her the fuck down!"_

_"She's having a seizure! I can't-"_

_"Hold her down or I'm shoving Lucille up your ass! Fucking listen to me and do it!"_

There was a cloth over Turtle's eyes, blocking her vision. She could hear the pounding of her own heart and her labored breathing. Her body was tense, numb, and as her breathing increased she began to at least try and talk. Negan's voice was most prominent, so she tried to call his name.

Her mouth wasn't working right. All she could manage were a few inhuman groans, like that of the undead. She wanted this cloth removed from her eyes. She wanted to see, wanted to see what was going on.

Why couldn't she see?

_"Fuck. Alright, Dwight, get the match ready."_

_"She's gonna die, Negan."_

_"Shut the fuck up and get the fucking match ready!"_

_"Alright."_

Turtle felt hard pressure against what remained of her left arm. She smelled smoke, felt the heat of a fire, and then the agony hit.

White, hot agony. She screamed so hard that she popped a vessel in her eye - so she thought. Her face twisted into an ugly, contorted mask and she kicked, her foot making contact with someone's torso. Her back arched, and someone - maybe Dwight - forced her back onto the ground. And then, embarrassingly enough, she emptied her bladder.

She was glad that she passed out after all of that.

When she awoke, her eyes were uncovered. She wasn't in a car or in the metro. She was on a sleeping bag, on a wooden floor, staring at a tilted ceiling with a gaping hole in the center, as if a tree had fallen and smashed it wide open.

Her mouth felt dry. She needed water - desperately. She tried to reach out, but she felt sharp pinpricks of pain shoot up her elbow and into her skull. Even attempting to move her head caused agony.

She closed her eyes, slipping away once more.

She was more alert the third time she awoke. This time, she was able to tilt her head to the side. She saw Negan sitting adjacent to her, Lucille propped up against the wall of what appeared to be a cabin. His face was smeared with roamer blood, his hair unkempt. He looked as if he hadn't slept.

Turtle opened her mouth to speak. Negan noticed, but remained still.

"Hi," Turtle sad weakly. Negan raised his eyebrows, and Turtle smiled. It took energy, and when Negan moved to her side, she relaxed her muscles and sunk back into a half-conscious state.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"No," Turtle replied slowly. She attempted to twitch her left arm. Nothing happened. She tried to wiggle her fingers, but nothing happened. "Fuck," she sighed. "No. No, no, no."

"Hey," Negan reached out and touched her shoulder. "Calm down."

"I don't have an arm," Turtle whined. She couldn't hold back the tears. "Where's my arm?"

"Don't get yourself all worked up, now," Negan said. "Just…calm down."

"Where's my arm?" Turtle repeated.

"It's gone, princess," Negan said softly.

"It hurts."

"I know. You need a doctor," Negan glanced up. Turtle followed his gaze and saw Dwight standing next to the cabin door, face an emotionless mask. "Like, a fucking professional."

"Why is Dwight here?"

"They slashed the tires on the truck," Dwight replied. "They were ready for us. I couldn't get back home, so I went looking for you two."

"I fucked up," Negan said coldly. "I fucked up, bad. Now we're fucking fucked because I fucked us."

Dwight didn't reply. He ducked his head and turned, peering out the cabin window.

"Now you've just gotta…un-fuck us," Turtle drawled. Negan gave a low chuckle, and Turtle extended her good arm, hands trembling. He froze when she touched his face, fingers ghosting over his cheek. "I've just gotta make sure I'm not dead."

"Are you sure I'm the first thing you wanna see when you die?"

Turtle licked her dry, cracked lips. She was going to die anyway, right? Her arm was a mess, blackened and cauterized. She was weak, she couldn't even walk, much less fight off the undead or, hell, living people for that matter.

It would be smarter for Negan and Dwight to leave her. It would be smarter. They were holed up in a cabin, deep in the woods, somewhere.

Turtle suddenly noticed how attractive Negan was. Pre-death thoughts, maybe? He was staring down at her, and Turtle was staring back at him, lips twisted into a grimace as small shudders of agony coursed through her body.

"Shit," Turtle mumbled.

"What?"

"You're hot," she whined. "Like, this isn't fair."

"You're fucking delirious," Negan chided. "I mean, you're right, I am hot, but you, ma'am, are delirious as hell and have no idea what you're fucking saying."

"I do," Turtle drawled. She moved her dull arm, finally able to get a good look at the wound. Everything from the elbow down was gone, the stump blackened. "You'd fuck a cripple, wouldn't you?"

Negan didn't reply, though he did smile. That was worth something.

"Get some rest," he finally said, standing and making his way towards Dwight. Turtle sighed, closing her eyes as the two men began talking in hushed voices.

She didn't know how long she slept. When she awoke, it was dark, and Negan was shaking her awake.

Shaking her awake hastily, his voice lowered, terse.

There was trouble.

"Big fucking trouble," Negan said. "We're in big fucking trouble."

Negan helped her sit up. Her head pounded and her dull arm was limp against her side. Negan was all but carrying her, dragging her limb body across the cabin floor, away from the door.

Headlights swept through the room. Turtle, out of the corner of her eye, saw Dwight station himself next to the window, machine gun in hand.

"It's those people from the fucking subway," Negan growled. "Fucker's must have been tailing us."

"How many?" Turtle asked groggily. When Negan released her, she sunk to her knees, biting her tongue to keep from shrieking. The pain in her severed limb was increasing with each passing second, and her legs felt as if they were made of straws. Fragile, but able to hold some weight.

Just not her weight.

"Get up," Negan said shortly. "Get the fuck up."

"Leave me," Turtle said. "Leave me. You and Dwight need to run."

"Fuck no," Negan snapped. "Stop it with that bullshit. I didn't save your fucking ass just to leave you out here to get your ass popped off by a bunch of fucking sewer rats."

"Then why did you save me?"

Negan sighed, exasperated. "I don't fucking know."

Bullets rippled through the room. Negan threw Turtle to the ground, shielding her with his big body. Dwight cried out, pressing himself to the floor as well.

The barrage of gunfire stopped. Outside, a gun clicked. A shadow moved across the car headlights, and a male's voice, light yet dangerous, called out to them.

"Come out here. There's three of you in there - an ugly dude with half a face, some lame bitch with one arm…" the man trailed off. "And the leader. Mr Louisville Slugger himself."

Turtle, using Negan as a crutch, picked herself up off the ground. She glanced up at his face. He didn't seem afraid. He seemed conflicted. Turtle could practically see the gears turning in his head as he thought of a plan, shooting Dwight glances.

"I'm going to count to ten. After ten, me and my people - all ten of us - are barging in there and killing all three of you."

Turtle, Dwight and Negan remained motionless, Turtle suppressing whimpers of pain.

"Actually," the man called. "No. After ten, I'm killing the burn victim and that fucker with the bat. I'm keeping the cripple. I'm keeping her for a long, long time."

Turtle whimpered in pain and fear. Fresh, hot tears rolled down her cheek. Negan immediately held her close, one hand cupping her cheek and swiping away the tears.

No.

Not again. She was not going to go through this again.

"Go out the back," Turtle instructed. She grasped Negan's arm.

"One."

"Go," Turtle snapped. "Dwight, c'mon."

Two.

They burst through the backdoor. Turtle heard shouts from behind her. They darted into the woods, and the leader screamed a curse.

"Go after them! Kill them! Kill them!"

"They'll catch us," Dwight rounded on Turtle's other side, reaching out to assist Negan in carrying her. She was caught between the two of them, feet dragging, hanging on to a thread of consciousness.

"Leave me," Turtle moaned. "Leave me and run."

Negan ignored her. He held Lucille in one hand and swung, catching a roamer in the head. Turtle was disoriented. Flashlights beams danced through the dense, black forest as the men pursued them, footsteps falling dangerously close

Turtle twisted her body and launched herself from Negan's grip. She screamed, this time, spitting as she doubled over in pain.

"Run! Both of you! Go!"

"No!" Negan swung Lucille. A roamer's head caved in. He shouldered another one out of the way. "Turtle! Get the fuck - Turtle!"

Dwight turned and began spraying gunfire. Turtle, fueled with adrenaline, rammed her weakened body into an oncoming roamer, knocking it to the ground. She leaped over its snapping jaws, chest heaving as she ran.

She didn't see Negan. Dwight was retreating, using the trees as cover. His eyes briefly met Turtle's.

Run.

He ran. He was the smart one. Turtle still didn't see Negan, but she did see a body come raging through the forest.

The man hit her with the butt end of his gun, though not hard enough to knock her out. She stumbled, dazed. His hands were around her throat, forcing her to the ground.

He planted a knee against her chest, reached out, and grasped her bum arm.

He squeezed.

Turtle bellowed. The pain was searing, white-hot.

She heard dull sounds, like gunfire. The man fell away from her, slumping over. She looked up and saw two more bodies approaching, heard two distinct shots, and they kneeled over, dead.

A flashlight glared down at her. She shielded her eyes, rolling over, dry heaving as her body attempted to vomit up nothing. She spat, clutching her bum arm.

She could make out the facial features of a man as he kneeled down next to her. He pulled away the bandana concealing his nose and mouth, revealing a beard and pink lips that were drawn together in a thin line. He adjusted his coat and peered down at Turtle, skeptical.

"Are you okay?"

Turtle shook her head, tears blurring her vision. The man reached out and lightly touched her stump, shaking his own head and clicking his tongue.

"You need a doctor. You'll get an infection if it's not treated properly. Can you tell me your name?"

"Turtle. It's a nickname it's not…shit," Turtle clenched her teeth.

"Okay," the man nodded, positioning himself so that he could carry Turtle to safety. "Well, Turtle, my name is Paul. But my friends just call me Jesus."


	7. Right off the Bat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooo gettin closer to Rick and co! And the smut!

"Harlan is our doctor here at Hilltop," Jesus said. "He's going to take care of you, alright? Make sure the wound doesn't get infected."

Turtle squirmed away from his touch. Jesus's face was the first thing she'd awoken too. Someone had stuck a needle in her - Harlan, probably. It kept the agony at bay, though it was still there, like a raging lion behind a thin curtain. Any movement would provoke it to snap its teeth and snarl.

Turtle looked around. Her rescuer, Jesus, stood in the corner with his arms crossed. Harlan was busy tending to what was left of her arm, dabbing on the last bit of ointment and reapplying the gauze. All Turtle could do was stare at the wall.

"You weren't alone," Jesus finally said. "There were two men with you - trained men, with weapons."

"And?" Turtle hissed through clenched teeth. Harlan had pressed a little too hard against her stump. "They're gone. Both of them."

"What were you all doing hiding out in that cabin? Why were those men after you?"

Turtle sighed. There was no sense in really lying - she knew people like Jesus. The readers. He'd see through any elaborate lie she thought up, so the only way to truly deceive them was to stretch the truth, just a little.

Turtle did that. She said, "They jumped us first, and we retaliated. We killed one of their guys and they got pissed."

Jesus nodded. He walked over to Turtle, hands in the pockets of his trench coat. "Once we get some food in you, you can go see Gregory. He'd want to hear the whole story, first-hand."

"He can't come see me?" Turtle raised her eyebrows. "What, he loves his cushy house too much?"

Harlan snorted, gathering his supplies and leaving with a nod to Jesus. Turtle struggled to sit up, wincing, on her small bed.

Jesus chuckled and said, "His request, not mine. I'll help you walk over there, if you'd like."

"He's in the big ass house over there, right?" Turtle pointed out the window. The old, southern-style home was beautiful and dominated the Hilltops mediocre skyline. "That looks like the house of a leader."

"It is. He claimed it first," Jesus scratched the back of his head. "Gregory can be a bit…much. But he's a competent leader. He keeps this place going."  
Turtle snorted, rolling her eyes and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Jesus began to protest, but she cut him off, saying, "I don't have time to wait. Let's do this now."

"What, you have somewhere to be?"

"Kind of," Turtle murmured. Her thoughts fell on Negan. He was a tough motherfucker, but he wasn't bulletproof or knife-proof or roamer-proof. The last she'd seen him, he'd been shouting at her to stay.

And she hadn't.

"Well, they can wait," Jesus looped an arm around Turtle's waist. Her knees were weak and wobbly, but they supported her weight enough that, with the help of Jesus, they were able to carry her out the infirmary door and towards the huge house. Residents of Hilltop stared, going about their normal tasks while keeping eyes trained on Turtle. She wasn't making a good first impression - her knees were wobbly, her face pale and dark purple circles rimming her eyes. She assumed she looked like one of the undead.

Inside the home, Turtle was greeted to ornate paintings and furniture and a winding staircase that led to the upper, equally fancy floors.

And a creepy old man in suspenders and a suit that looked way too clean. Well, creepy was a strong word. Unsettling. He had a smile that was too forced. Turtle could tell because he was tapping his fingers against his thighs, as if spending five seconds with Turtle had already bored him. He met her gaze and his smile widened.

"Jesus told me all about you," Gregory - Turtle assumed him to be Gregory - approached and extended a hand. Turtle had to reach across her body to shake his hand. He didn't seem to notice the fact that she lacked a limb.

"Cool."

Gregory raised his eyebrows, but Turtle's cold remark didn't seem to sway his fake, cheery demeanor. "Cool indeed. Lucky he saved you, huh? Would have been biter chow. Come in - my office is just past that door."

"Can you walk by yourself? If not I can go with you," Jesus murmured. Turtle gingerly pried herself away from him, taking a few experimental steps before deciding that she had the strength. However, that didn't mean that she disliked Jesus's company.

"Come with me," Turtle murmured back. Gregory's head whipped to the side and he grinned.

"No, no. Jesus, stay out here. I want to speak to her privately. It will only take a moment."

Jesus cringed, but backed off. Turtle sighed and stepped forward, making small calculated movements as she worked up enough energy to enter Gregory's office. He shut the door behind him, gesturing for her to sit. Turtle did.

He sat across from her and sighed. His smile dropped. He was more serious, now. Only a small smirk graced his bearded face.

"Jesus never told me how exactly you lost your arm," Gregory tilted his head to the side. "And since you're here, I thought I'd ask."

"A roamer got it. I chopped it off myself."

"Don't lie."

"I got bit," Turtle said through gritted teeth.. "And I chopped it off. And cauterized it."

"Jesus did tell me that you weren't alone," Gregory sneered, sudden hostility in his voice. "You got bit. I can believe that. But chopping off your own arm then cauterizing it, all while remaining conscious? That's bullshit and you know it."

"The people I was with are dead," Turtle snapped. "We got separated. I heard them screaming. I don't know what happened."

"Jesus doesn't think so. He said that the men you were with looked tough," Gregory leaned back in his chair. "They wouldn't go down so easily, he said."

"He was spying on us?" Turtle's lips curled back into a grimace.

"Only for a little while. He was going to try and introduce himself but then…you know the rest," Gregory rested his hands against his lap. "You owe Jesus, big time. You owe this community big time."

"I don't owe shit," Turtle replied coldly. "I'm not for that. You can't hold me hostage with a debt."

"That's how it worked in the old world."

"This isn't the old world."

"It's as close to the old world as we make it. And here, in my community, we pay our debts. Community service work, if you will."

"Tending to your cattle?" Turtle grimaced. "I'm not a farmer."

"Then what are you? A soldier? A doctor?"

Turtle bit her lip to keep from outright screaming at Gregory. She wanted to leave, she suddenly realized. The big house around her felt as if were shrinking in, crushing her bones. Gregory's voice gnawing at her ears certainly didn't help.

"I'm a nobody," Turtle finally breathed. "I'm nothing, alright? Nothing."

Gregory tilted his head, his face suddenly transforming from smug and calculated to something unreadable. Turtle couldn't tell if this was part of another act or not.

"Then I guess you can leave," Gregory shrugged. "Although, with you arm, I doubt you'd last long. Not to mention the fact that you need medicine, and I won't have Harlan wasting out goods on a stranger who'll probably die out in the woods anyway."

Turtle stiffened. What remained of her arm twitched, concealed by bandages and a sling.

"We want to use our goods on productive members of our society. Why spend our resources on you if you're just going to die later?" Gregory said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You can either stay here and be productive, or leave and die from an infection. Your choice."

"What happens when I recover?" Turtle said. "What happens when time runs out? Are you going to imprison me here?"

"When the time runs out, you'll have found that you like it here. You won't want to leave - what was it you said? You're a nobody. Nothing. What could you possibly have to go back to?"

Turtle grimaced. She'd been backed into a hole.

"Unless, of course, you're lying and you do have somebody."

Turtle shook her head quickly. "No. I've already told you everything."

"Sure you have," Gregory's lips crept upward into a smile that made Turtle's blood go sour. "Now, get out of here. I've got work to do. Oh, and welcome to Hilltop. I hope your stay, Miss…."

"Turtle."

"Turtle. Right," the gesture was minute, but Turtle caught Gregory briefly roll his eyes. "I hope your stay, Miss Turtle, is as pleasant as you are."  
~ ~ ~

Turtle gathered what she could that night. She'd found her bloodstained jacket underneath the cot she'd been provided. They'd removed everything - her pistol, her water bottle, everything but her pocket knife. She slid it past her shoulders and winced as she flexed her stump arm. She took the bottle of pain pills from the bedside table, checking the tautness of the gauze around her wound. It would last a few days, she decided, before it needed to be changed.

She wasn't thinking straight, and a part of her knew it. Surrounding Hilltop, miles and miles around, was vast nothingness that Turtle had yet to explore.

She snuck out as the first set of guards retired for the night. She had a small gap, so she left quickly, sneaking from her trailer and creeping past the cattle pens, behind Gregory's house and towards the gate.

She barely managed to break from cover before Jesus stopped her.

He'd been waiting.

"You caught me," Turtle mumbled. She zipped up her jacket, one sleeve hanging loose past her elbow. She rolled her eyes, placing on hand on her hips as Jesus moved to block her path. "What are you gonna do, huh?"

"Escort you back to your room."

"Uh-huh," Turtle marched forward, but Jesus hand fell across her shoulder in a vice grip. She stopped, part of her wanting to reach for her pocket knife. She'd never kill Jesus - she couldn't bring herself to do that. Just like Negan, she owed him for saving her life.

"You can't keep me here. Gregory tried to threaten me with medicine, but I can make it if I…" Turtle trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut. "I can't stay here, Jesus. I have to leave."

"Why?"

"You have your people, your family, and I have mine."

"You won't last five seconds out there on your own," Jesus hissed. "There's not another settlement within miles of here. You can't fight, much less-"

"I only need one arm to fight, Jesus."

"No. You need the skill to deal with having one arm, first," Jesus said insistently. "Go out there, and something other than a biter might get you."  
Turtle shrugged herself from his grip, staring into his bright eyes. "Me being here won't do you any good."

"What for? Both those me you were with are gone, right?"

Turtle sighed, wrapping her good around around her torso. "They're alive. They're alive, and they're going to come looking for me."

"Good. When they come, you can go with them, and you'll be safe and healthy. But you shouldn't leave now while you're still injured, Turtle. Not now, and not alone."

"Then come with me. Help me find them."

Jesus reeled back. He opened his mouth to reply.

The sound of an ear-piercing explosion, like a hundred gunshots, stopped him. From their position pressed up against the wall behind Gregory's home, their saw a flicker of fire and flash of light.

People began to scream. Jesus took off like a speeding bullet, dashing towards the sound. Turtle followed hot on his heels, already whipping out her pocket knife.

As if it would help her.

An explosion had rocketed one of the storage huts. It was aflame, smoke curling towards the sky. A few residents of Hilltop fled onto the law before the massive state house, wielding assembled weapons - rakes, kitchen knifes, shovels. A massive, burly man whose name Turtle had learned earlier, Ethan, had a shotgun clutched in both hands. He noticed Turtle and scowled.

Turtle saw Gregory storm outside from within the home, half dressed and angrily trying his bathrobe together, looking completely undignified as whatever or whomever had launched the grenade made their way through Hilltop's gates.

Fuck.

Turtle saw Dwight first, entering from the outside with caution, burnt face wrinkled, hair disheveled and falling past his ears. Behind him, over two dozen men. Turtle could put a name to each. She'd spoken to them all sometime during her life at Sanctuary, after the death of her family.

A part of her wanted to be overjoyed. Here were her people - her real community. Coming to save her, right?

Save her from what? Hospitality? Jesus?

Turtle saw Negan last, Lucille swung over his shoulder. Turtle saw Ethan step forward out of the corner of her eye, only backing down when he realized that he was the only member of Hilltop with a gun. Negan's men were packing, Turtle noticed, with machine guns and shotguns and handguns.

They could slaughter every member of Hilltop with just a squeeze of a trigger.

"Nice fucking place you got here. Never thought you could raise a bunch of farmers during the goddamn end of the world, but here you folks are," Negan clicked his tongue, tapping Lucille against his boot. His eyes fell across Gregory, who was pushing his way to the front of the crowd. Negan rolled his eyes. "Sorry for the property damage. We'll fix it. I swear."

"Who are you?"

"Your savior, little man," Negan trotted across to Gregory, standing within Lucille's length of him. Just enough that he could raise his weapon, letting the tip rest an inch from Gregory's face. "That's who we are. Me? I'm Negan.

"Boss," Dwight suddenly said. Turtle had been too caught up in watching Negan stare down Gregory that she hadn't noticed the fact that Dwight had been analyzing her small form. She turned just as he gestured with his gun.

Negan diverted his attention away from Gregory, and finally realized that Turtle was all but a few yards away.

Negan let Lucille fall back against his shoulder. All eyes were on Turtle now as Negan walked towards her, slowly still, predatory. Almost as if he were addressing an unruly Hilltop member who'd rudely interrupted his monologue. Turtle tensed up, feeling Jesus slowly slide in front of her, shielding her from Negan's potential wrath.

"Get the fuck out of the way," Negan growled.

Jesus didn't move.

"I'll kill you," Negan said calmly. "I'll fucking smash your brains in."

"Jesus," Turtle moved him out of the way, standing before Negan. He stared at her, eyebrows raised. In a soft voice, she said, "There was no need for the grenade."

"I didn't kill anyone, did I?"

Turtle didn't reply. Negan had her by the arm and pulled her from the crowd, raising her voice as he spoke.

"You know, I was going to kill a whole shitton of you. I mean, I'm still gonna kill one of you, but now you're one victim down thanks to this lady," Negan gestured towards Turtle, who stood at his side, facing the Hilltop residents.

So many faces of hatred. Jesus, confused and frightened. Ethan, looking ready to shoot her instead. Gregory's lips were pulled into a thin line, his face red. Harlan, looking disgusted.

"Then again, I can understand if you're pissed. She's the reason I found this place," Negan shrugged. "But you kept her ass alive for me, and for that, I'll be merciful. Just this once. See, your shit belongs to me now. All of it - that fucking cow over there? Mine. Your food supply? Now mine. And there's not shit you can do about it."

Negan gestured for his men to spread out. They did, Dwight in the lead as the they kept the crowd from fleeing. With a small nod from Negan, they began forcing each person to their knees.

Turtle knew what was about to happen. She could see the fear and confusion illuminated in the flickering light of the storage hut fire.

Gregory was left standing, along with Jesus and Ethan. Ethan's grip on the gun had tightened, and his eyes danced from Turtle to Negan, then back to Turtle.

"We can negotiate this," Gregory said slowly. "Talk it over, like reasonable gentlemen. There's no need for violence."

"Uh-huh," Negan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Heard and heard. Choosing not to give a fuck. On your knees, boys."

Three men forced Jesus, Ethan and Gregory to kneel. Turtle watched, hopeless, and Jesus stared directly at her from behind his long hair.

"I'm letting you off easy," Negan said.

"Negan, they saved me-"

Negan cut Turtle off with a scoff. "You know how we do shit, Turtle," he stepped closer to Turtle, his breath warm against her temple. "This one is on me, okay?"

"You shouldn't."

"I am. I've got to, or they won't learn."

"What is there to learn?"

"They need to learn not to fuck with us," Negan touched Turtle's chin with his free hand, before addressing the residents of Hilltop. "Everybody down and comfortable? Ready for the shitshow? Good, good. Cause this isn't going to be a quick fucking process."

Negan began pacing, scanning the crowd like a wolf scanning for its next meal. He began humming a tune to himself, and Turtle had to duck her head. Jesus's gaze was too powerful, even for her.

"How about you, kid?"

Turtle looked up. One of Negan's men was already dragging a boy through the crowd - he looked familiar. Turtle had seen him tending to the cattle along with his father.

Ben? Was that his name?

His father began screaming. His father's name was Howard. He'd brought Turtle her lunch shortly after she'd awoken.

_Ben. Yeah, that as it._

"Negan-"

"Hush, Turtle. Just…don't blink. Don't even breathe. It'll all be over soon."

The boy barely had any time to recover as he was dumped before Negan. Lucille hit his head, hard, cracking his skull. Again, in the side of the head this time. His eye popped from its socket. The other sprayed into Gregory's face and neck. The older man gasped, leaned over, and vomited on the dirt.

Lucille came down again and again and again.

_Ben. She'd seen him._

"Holy shit! We've got a sprayer!"

_Ben._

Howard was sobbing now. Dwight and another savior held him pinned to the dirt. The tears of the Hilltop residents flowers freely now. Ben was struggling, face beaten into the dirt. With one final swing he went limp, like a marionette with its strings abruptly cut.

Gregory vomited again. Jesus was crying, but trying not to show it - he kept clenching his teeth and dry heaving, staring at the ground.

Negan swiped some of the blood from his jacket. Lucille was dripping, hair and flesh clinging to its barbed ends. Ben's head was caved in, oozing gore. The screams of his father seemed far off, distant.

Like a dream. Oh, God, this all had to be a dream, right?

Negan snapped her from her trance. He had Lucille in one gloved hand. The other, clean, was cupping her face. She obviously seemed in shock, for Negan seemed concerned.

"How's your arm?"

"What?"

"Your arm, are you in pain? Do you need medicine?"

"N-no."

"I told you not to look."

"I know," Turtle held back a sudden sob. "I know. But I saw, Negan. I saw it, what you did…that boy. The father…" Turtle leaned forward, her forehead resting against his shoulder. She didn't dare look at the Hilltop residents. There was only him right now, the murderer. The monster.

So she let the beast hold her, weeping until she ran out of tears.


	8. Tinker Tailor Man

"I found a place," Negan said softly. "A place that you can work and be safe. Dwight found it while out looking for you."

"Is that where we're going?"

Negan nodded. He had one hand on the wheel, another busy drumming light patters across Turtle's thigh. The gesture was small - certainly not romantic. Something to keep him busy, Turtle decided. He had a lot on his mind.

"Yeah. We've already cleared out the place. There's a big-ass river just to the north of it, so that'll block off at least of a few of the undead for us. We're the only settlement within a hundred miles. Us and Hilltop and some place my boys have been watching."

"Some place?"

"The people inside aren't a threat. We'll deal with them later," Negan huffed, speeding the car along the road, tires causing the mess of fallen leaves to swirl.

Turtle closed her eyes, inhaling and then exhaling slowly. It was just the two of them - Turtle, having been nurtured for the past week, fed and clothed and given enough medicine to ebb the pain away.

She gotten into a habit of tying her loose sleeve around her stump. It made it easier - made it look better, too. Now, people wouldn't have to ask questions. They'd just see it and know.

"It's a treehouse," Negan said suddenly. He glanced at Turtle's arm. "We found it all so fucking quick…we forgot that you…"

"It's fine.. I can climb fine."

"You've got balls of steel, girl."

Negan pulled the truck to a stop, nodding for Turtle to hope out. She did, slamming the door shut and drawing her machete. She dispatched a hobbling roamer with one clean stroke.

She followed Negan in silence, deep into the woods. She ducked under the remnants of a barbed wire fence, sticking close behind Negan as they came across what had to be their destination.

Hidden behind strategically placed branches, Turtle could see the thin pieces of polished wood. The mesh ladder lay resting against the tree trunk.

"We've already moved in your supplies," Negan said, squinting and peering up at the home. "There's a mattress and shit in there, some food. Good shit."

Turtle nodded, moving ahead of Negan. She sheathed her machete and then began to climb, hooking her bum arm around each step of the swinging latter. She pushed open the hatch, entering the treehouse and immediately checking her surroundings. The place was mainly bare, but Negan hadn't lied - there was a mattress with a sleeping bag, supplies, and a little table. Four unlit oil lamps rested in a corner, along with some matches.

Light from the two carved, open windows shone into the room. Turtle scooted back, allowing Negan to enter the home behind her. He closed the hatch, breathing in the cool air and looking around as Turtle set down her bag.

"Like it?"

Turtle smiled. "Yeah. I do," she pushed a strand of hair away from her face. "It's nice. Very homely. Better than Sanctuary, that's for sure."

"You didn't seem to fuckin' comfortable back there."

"No," Turtle admitted. "The environment, the system…the people. Well, not all of them…it was just all too much. I don't think I'm ready to be with people again…"

"You're with me."

"I know," Turtle stood and began shuffling around, rummaging through supplies so to distract herself. "But you're different. Cliche, I know. I feel comfortable around you."

"Even after all the shit I did back at Hilltop? After I bashed that kid's brains in-"

"Ben. His name was Ben."

"Whatever," Negan stood. "It's over. I did what I fucking had to do, Turtle. You've seen it before."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," Turtle mumbled. She could feel Negan's presence behind her. She turned, finding him standing before her, head cocked to the side as he stared down at her with that damn charming smirk.

"You don't have to agree with the shit I do. All I need you to do is trust me," Negan said softly. "I haven't let you down, have I?"

"No."

"Good girl," Negan smiled. Turtle barely registered the fact that his lips fit nicely over hers. She did feel his hands on the skin of her neck, fingers lightly dancing across her collarbone. She leaned in to his touch, eyes fluttering as her remaining limb rose to curl against the nape of his neck, tugging him closer. It didn't take long for Negan to begin tugging on her lower lip with his teeth, mouth stretching into a wide grin. 

When he pulled away, Turtle noticed that his fingers were shaking ever so slightly. The sunlight no longer lit the interior of the home.

"Light some lamps," Negan murmured. "We'll stay here for the night."

"We?"

"Yeah. Just us."

"Good. I like that."

~ ~ ~

"Making yourself at home? All-fucking-righty then."

Across the room, Negan was removing his jacket, pulling his handgun from his belt and resting it against the table. Turtle watched him move, clad in only a long shirt and a pair of underwear. She couldn't believe how comfortable she'd become around him - it was almost bizarre. She shouldn't be comfortable with him, but she was.

He was a bad, bad man and Turtle had watched him do some bad things. She shouldn't want that - shouldn't want him.

But she did.

He sauntered over to her and, in a single fluid motion was playfully atop Turtle, sliding underneath the blankets. Turtle laughed, and Negan seemed to relish and enjoy the sound, so he provoked her more.

"This is a better fucking angle," Negan chuckled, pulling Turtle into kiss that left her breathless. When he pulled away, he licked his lips, eyes gleaming. He said, "You into some kinky shit? Tell me about it. I wanna fucking know."

"Bondage, kind of," Turtle squirmed beneath him as his lips found the steady, beating pulse on her throat. If his mouth could do this to her…

"That's it?"

"Rough play. Spanking, spitting…"

"I didn't know you were this naughty," Negan's fingers crept up her shirt. He pulled them away suddenly, instead opting to slide a hand past Turtle's panties, dipping past her thighs. The entire time he watched her, swirling his thumb over her aching clit.

For Turtle, keeping her composure was virtually impossible. Her hips bucked at his touch, but he forced her back down and clicked his tongue.

"None of that, now. None of that. You're going to lie here, okay, and not move a muscle," Negan's voice was dripping with a combination and pleasure and desire. "When I fuck you, that's when I want you to scream."

"Y-yes."

His fingers kept going. He pushed one deep inside her, and Turtle felt her muscles tense as she resisted the urge to scream and begin riding his fingers. He leaned back down, tongue flicking across her throat. He was moving, Turtle realized, dipping beneath the covers, fingers still pumping in a steady rhythm.

"Don't fucking move or say shit," Negan hissed. Turtle's underwear was soaking, and he pulled them off with ease. Without warning he ducked his head, tongue jutting from his lips and caressing her dripping cunt.

Turtle gasped. Her hips bucked against his face and he snarled, gripping her thighs and forcing her back down. Then, his arms reached upwards to fondle Turtle's breasts, thumb rubbing gently across her perked mounds He squeezed, purring against her skin. 

His mouth was so good, his hands…

"I need…," Turtle tried to speak, but couldn't. His tongue felt too good, stroking and sucking on her clit.

"What do you need, baby?" Negan lifted his head and raised his eyebrows. "You want me to fuck you hard, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Not yet. Not until I fucking say so, alright? I need your cunt wet and dripping for me first."

"Oh, God," Turtle moaned. Negan's mouth was sending her over the edge, and she felt her stomach coil. She released with a cry, feeling Negan give her one last thrust with his finger before hastily coming up to remove Turtle's shirt, revealing her bare breasts to the afternoon air. Her panties were gone, and Negan seemed to be enjoying the fact that he had her right where he wanted her.

"You like it rough, huh?"

"Yes," Turtle rolled her hips against his, desperately needing contact - needing him. Her fingers fumbled with his zipper, but he stopped her with a hard grip to her throat.

"No. I told you not to move," Negan snarled. "You want it rough, right?"

"Yes," Turtle gasped. She removed her hands and watched as Negan did it himself, straddling her and unbuttoning his own pants. He nodded, allowing Turtle to finally use her hands on him, tugging his attire down past his hips. He removed his shirt himself, leaning down and pulling Turtle into another kiss. His tongue swept against hers, his fingers gently brushing against her pulse.

"I wasn't lying, back at the cabin, when I said that you were attractive," Turtle purred, running one palm across his firm, taut skin, fingers curling against the tuffs of hair across his chest. "I probably shouldn't stroke your ego anymore." 

"I'm not fucking complaining," Negan rumbled. His jaw twitched and he rolled away, on his hands and knees. "Fucking fuck...can't believe I almost forgot-" 

"What?" 

"Lay back down - ah, shit," Negan returned, ripping open a packet - a condom packet - open with his teeth. He spat and, with Turtle's help, slid it on, practically crawling back over to Turtle. "Fuck, here we go - open up for me, baby."

With one smooth motion he was inside her. Turtle gasped at the sudden intrusion, hand flying up to grip his shoulders. Grunting, Negan gripped her thigh, making sure to move slowly at first, stretching her, watching her face for any sort of reaction. All Turtle could do was hold back a loud, strangled groan as her body began to adjust to his girth.

"Does that feel nice?" Negan mumbled again her throat. His muscles twitched as Turtle ran her fingers across his chest, down to the scars on his ribcage. He flinched at the touch, before claiming Turtle's lips once more.

When Negan pulled away and moved, Turtle cried out. The feeling was familiar - why was she thinking of them men right now? Those murders, scum who'd killed her family.

Their mouths, their hands on her -

"Hey, hey," Negan spoke softly, noticing her pained face. "Do you want me to stop?"

"N-no," Turtle sniffed. "Keep going."

"You sure?" Negan rolled over, allowing Turtle to lay atop him and straddle his own waist. He was giving her control over the situation, she realized. "Baby, if you want to stop-"

"No. I need this and I need you," Turtle reached out to touch his cheek. He tilted his head to press his lips against her palm. It was one of the kindest gestures Turtle had ever seen him make - and he'd given it to her. Not to one of his wives, but to her.

Turtle leaned down to kiss him, finally willing herself to move and ride him. Negan grunted, large hands fumbling and finding her breasts. Turtle herself gave a little whimper, though it sounded more enthusiastic than anything else. With each stroke driving her closer and closer to the edge, a part of her couldn't believe that this was happening. All the heat, the smell of sex and Negan's thumb brushing across her pink, full lips, his other hand running down the curve of her breasts once more.

Her release came soon after, and she collapsed atop Negan with a breathy cry, feeling him tense and swear beneath her. Her brown hair fell across her face and Negan ran his fingers through her messy locks, pushing them away from her so to reach her mouth.

"That wasn't as fucking rough as I thought it would be, dollface."

"I'll have bruises," Turtle mumbled against his lips. "But you like that, right?"

"Fuck yes."

"Your wives are going to be pissed," Turtle murmured. Negan silenced her with another kiss, and Turtle couldn't help but chuckle. "No, no. This will piss them off."

"This was just…fucking, though? Am I right?" Negan raised his eyebrows, running big hand down Turtle's bare back. "Besides, you've already called me hot."

"I mean, I wasn't wrong. But I was hallucinating."

"Uh-huh. Keep saying that shit and it might get you punished," Negan whispered. He smoothed back another piece of Turtle's hair, grimacing at the inconvenience. "In fact, I'm getting Amber to cut your hair next time you come back to Sanctuary. Just a lil trim."

Turtle rolled off him, lying on the mattress and staring at the ceiling.

"Go to sleep," Negan said. "I can lock the hatch."

Turtle felt him leave the mattress and pad across the room. Even with the only source of light being two glowing oil lamps, Turtle caught a glance of him as he went to secure the hatch.

"Nice ass," she called out, her eyelids drooping, heavy with fatigue. She laughed at her own joke raising her bum arm when Negan returned to her. "Seriously. Congrats on the ass."

"You need something, princess? Nobody's ever fucking complimented my ass."

"I'm sure they compliment you on your unassuming demeanor and appropriate etiquette."

"I'm mostly known for how fucking incredibly huge my cock is."

"See. Proved my point right there," Turtle sighed. Negan's warm breath was on her, brushing against the back of her neck. Turtle assumed he slept with his wives like this, his body wrapped around their own. Turtle sighed and leaned into his touch.

"Sleep, dollface. Tomorrow, you get to blow some motherfucking shit sky-high."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I've never written smut before I hope this was okay XD i was blazing red throughout writing this whole chapter.


	9. Foxtrot

Negan awoke first. Turtle knew because she opened her eyes and was immediately greeted to a warm, pleasurable feeling between her legs. Negan's fingers skirted across the inside of her thighs, his tongue working wonders on her.

"This is nice," Turtle sighed. Negan nodded, but his mouth was full and all he could muster was a grunt. Turtle sighed, mouth open as his tongue flicked a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves. "You're nice."

Negan lifted his head, lips pulled into a sharklike grin. "Hush and enjoy yourself."

"I am," Turtle giggled.

"Sherry is going to wonder," Negan hummed against Turtle's skin, "Where all the condoms went."

Turtle almost laughed, but a sudden realization caused a feeling of dread and unease to settle in the pit of her stomach. She gasped and bucked her hips, biting her lower lip and letting out a sigh when Negan's tongue flicked over her one last time. He lifted his head from between her legs, grinning like an idiot - a goofball, and his expression caused Turtle to laugh before, once again, that feeling washed over her.

"Turtle? What's wrong?" Negan crawled back up to Turtle. She ran her hand down his bare chest, letting it rest on his bicep. She avoided his attempted kiss, turning her head to the side and letting his mouth latch onto her throat.

"Nothing is wrong."

"Bullshit," Negan mumbled against her skin. "Something's fucking wrong. You can tell me."

"It's your wives," Turtle whispered, glancing into his dark eyes. "This isn't fair to them."

"They can fucking deal. You're to much to give up," Negan was finally allowed to kiss her. When he pulled away, he ran a hand up her smooth stomach, gripping her breast between his fingers. "You could always become a wife-"

"No," Turtle said immediately.

"You aren't down with the wife shit?"

"Obviously not. Besides, who else can make these bombs for you? Dwight? He'd blow his head off within the first six minutes," Turtle laughed.

"Speaking of blowing, you wanna.." Negan gasped when Turtle's hand found him, thumb running over his slick head. She felt his hips buck against her and she stroked her fingers down the length of him, a coy smile tugging at the corners of her lip. "Oh, okay. You've got it…God, that smile is hot, babe."

He rolled over as Turtle's mouth latched onto his stomach, her kisses slow and deliberate as she moved further down his torso.

"Yeah. I've got it."  
~ ~ ~

Turtle's two guards arrived half an hour after Negan left. Bud, a shorter man with a beard and scraggly hair, knocked on the hatch. Turtle, dressed and ready, opened it.

Turtle had seen both him and Paula before. He had a sly gaze and Paula…she just seemed angry. Brows always furrowed and eyes that were haunted, and observant. She immediately shot Turtle a look and spoke, her words deliberate in their slowness.

"Have you and boss been fucking?"

Turtle bit her lip. Bud raised his eyebrows, also awaiting an answer.

"Yeah."

"Huh. You don't seem like his type," Paula shrugged. "Whatever. Not my place to judge," she went and adjusted the gun slung across her shoulder, taking up position by the window. Bud gave Turtle a final nod before heading back down to patrol the area.

Turtle began to work, taking the time to adjust - not having two hands was a major setback, she realized. She had to use teeth and the brute force of her forearm. The entire time, Paula switched between observing her and staring out the window. After about an hour of grunting and sighing, Paula finally spoke.

"How'd you lose your arm?"

"Got bit. Negan chopped it off," Turtle replied, never taking her eyes off her work. "Saved me, just like he did before, when my family was murdered."

"Your whole family, huh?"

"Mom, dad, brother. My little sister. When all the shit started we all huddled together. We lasted almost three years, cause my dad was smart and my mom knew how to survive. I'm pretty sure my brother was one of those 'the rapture is coming' type of people and he'd researched what to and what to get and whatever. In a way, he saved us."

"Couldn't save himself though, could he?"

Turtle kept working. Her chest clenched, but she fought away the feeling sadness. "No. He couldn't. Negan had to do all the work, as always."

"It's a shame. Things get taken from us," Paula rapped her knuckles against the wooden walls, bored. "You know, I'm surprised you're even still alive, after all that. With your arm and all."

"What, you think I'm weak?" Turtle ripped a wire with her teeth, grimacing at the coppery taste.

"No. After all the stuff you've gone through I expected you to just wither away, like the undead. It happens to people."

"Not me. I'm still here."

"Good. We need you."

"No, you need my bombs," Turtle replied. "My products. You don't need me."

Paula's next words were harsh, despite the obviously positive message. Turtle finally turned to look at her. Her lips were pulled into thin line and her gaze was insistent. "No, we need you. Not just your bombs, but you."

Someone knocked on the trap door. Paula opened it and Bud crawled in, panting. He'd removed his knife.

"What's wrong?" Turtle asked, abandoning her work and going to kneel beside him. He pulled out a pair of binoculars and thrusts them towards Paula.

"About half a mile, between the trees. Their making good ground but their going slow."

Paula looked. After a moment, she cursed, eyes still glued to the binoculars "We've got company," she murmured. Then, a little louder, "You know how to shoot a gun with that bum arm of yours, right?"

"A handgun. Not a rifle," Turtle explained. She made her way over to Paula, taking the binoculars and looking for himself.

A group of six men were advancing through the forest, wearing ratty clothing and each holding back an attack dog on a taut chain. Rottweilers, Turtle assumed. The men brandished machetes and knives, but no guns. Their hair was unkempt and the sheer amount of filth on their frame made them blend in with the forest around them.

"Shit," Turtle cursed and felt her hand shoot to her belt. She only had a knife and a handgun. An idea struck her like a speeding train, and she rolled her eyes. "We're not wasting bullets on these guys."

"You have an alternative other than piss our pants an run?" Bud asked.

"Yeah. That's our fallback," Turtle tossed Paula a square, baseball sized object held together by copious amounts of silver duck tape. Turtle took one for himself, gesturing towards the hatch. "Down to the ground we go. You guys can climb trees, right?"

"Can you?" Bud asked.

"I got up here, didn't I?"

Bud rolled his eyes and slid down first. Paula was second, toting her machine gun. Then Turtle, clutching a portion of the explosive, between her teeth. The detonator was in her pocket.

They skittered to the left of the treehouse, closer to the road. The men were getting closer. Turtle assigned Bud and Paula a tree before placing the bombs on the ground, though not before hastily struggling to get out of her jacket. Paula helped her and Turtle, desperately praying that this was worth it, dusted the explosives with leaves and spread her wrinkled jacket across it.

"C'mon," Paula whispered. She hoisted Turtle up a tree, watching her and bracing herself as Turtle skittered up high, past the hanging branches, concealed partially by leaves.

Then, clutching the detonator in her hand, Turtle opened her mouth and gave the loudest and most convincing shriek she could muster. Paula opened her mouth to curse but Turtle stopped her. Across the way she saw Bud's face pale and his eyes widen.

"Get your gun ready," Turtle murmured. Paula obeyed, clicking off the safety and clutching it as the dogs began to bark and the men began shouting and making their way over. She could see the big, hulking dogs as they sniffed, picking up the smell of Turtle's jacket and making a beeline towards it, all but dragging their human companions with them.

Closer.

They passed underneath them, now, the first five. Paula kept her gun trained on the sixth and his dog as they slowly caught up, keeping eyes out for any undead that were luring nearby.

Closer.

The dogs reached her jacket. Five nostrils began nudging at the bundle of clothing.

"Shit! Up above!"

Paula fired. The sixth man fell, blood gushing from the hole in his shoulder. Turtle squeezed the trigger on the detonator and the explosion was so powerful that it rocked the trees. Four of the men went flying, flesh burned and ripped from their bodies, limbs flying and spirals of blood. Their dogs suffered the same fate - Bud took out the last man from his own hiding spot, a clean shot to the head.

Turtle hopped down from her tree. The last dog was fleeing, tail tucked between its legs. What remained of the men were heaping, smoking ruins.

"Paula, don't kill him," Turtle instructed. The woman smirked, kicking the man as he lay, howling and clutching his shoulder.

Turtle, for all intents and purposes, was a demon to the man. She knelt, bum arm resting across her knee. His face was a mass of scraggly beard. Disturbed, green eyes peered up at Turtle and he began to mumble, words strung together into senseless babble.

"We taking him back?" Paula asked, crossing her arms. "You sure? He seems a little wacko, with all the mumbling."

"Speak English, bro," Bud said, nudging the man with his foot.

"Wolves not far."

Turtle, Bud and Paula blanked.

"The fuck?" Bud said. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Wolves not far."

"He's a parrot, guys. Or a broken record. Or dead - well, he could be," Bud's hands twitched, itching to get ahold of his gun.

"No. We're taking him back, letting Negan deal with him," Turtle said insistently. "Bud, knock him out."

Bud obeyed. Paula sneered, arms still crossed over her chest. "Who made you in charge?"

"Me. I just promoted myself," Turtle sighed and stood, staring down at the man. He had a "W" carved into his forehead, she realized. It was a faint scar, scratched into his skin. She sighed. "Let's get him back. We're loosing daylight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I wanted to add a little bit more depth and structure to the Wolves, since we don't know much about them. Oh, and can u guess who Bud is? (He went out with a bang in the mid-season premier of S6)  
> And yes more smut im sorry


	10. Wolves Not Far

“Goddamn. A gift this early? It’s not even fucking Christmas yet,” Negan chided. Paula and Bud stood in the corner, watching Negan pace back and forth like a lion. Turtle was by his side, Lucille in hand, and the man - the Wolf, as he called himself - was staring up at Negan, teeth bared in a ghastly snarl. Rope bound his hands and feet together and he sat in a wooden chair, hands interlaced behind his back. They were in the back of Sanctuary, in an old storage room that had been cleared out long ago. 

“Wolves, huh? That’s a pretty stupid ass name,” Negan ran fingers across the coarse stubble on his chin. “I mean, I have to admit, ‘Savior’ is pretty stupid to, but not as stupid.”

The man - the Wolf - spat. It dripped down his chin and onto the floor. He lurched forward as a bout of pain his him, his injured shoulder leaking fluid past the bandages. 

“We’ve already killed a lot of your guys. Blew them to fucking pieces,” Negan bent over to look the man in the eye. “And the metro - was that you?” 

"That was us. We killed your guy,” the Wolf admitted. “And you killed a bunch of ours.”

“Wow, what a fucking snitch,” Negan rolled his eyes. “You aren’t getting a happy ending, buddy. So-fucking-sorry. So go ahead, snitch some more and tell us where the rest of your guys are hiding.”

“We don’t hide. We’re nowhere and everywhere.”

“Stop with the cryptic bullshit. I’m not in the mood,” Negan gestured for Turtle. She raised Lucille, offering her to Negan. “This is Lucille, by the way. Say hi.”  

The Wolf said nothing.

Negan swung and the Wolf’s kneecap shattered. He shrieked, the sound inhuman. Turtle squeezed her eyes shut, standing as still as possible.

“Say hi!”

“H-Hi Lucille,” the Wolf gasped. He sobbed, leg twitching. 

“Good. Now that we’ve introduced ourselves, you mind telling me where the fuck the rest of your people are? We won’t kill everyone, just most of them. Like, ninety-four fucking percent.”

“I told you, we move!” the Wolf gritted his teeth and let out a slow breath, trying to compose himself. “We move, then we attack. You won’t expect it. None of you are safe.”

“Your leader, who the fuck is he?” Negan snarled.

“Hound.”

“Fuck Hound,” Negan stood to his full height, cursing and pinching the bridge of his nose. He addressed Paula, briskly saying, “Triple guard duty. The gates? They stay shut until I say so, alright? Nobody gets in or out of here.”

Paula nodded and slipped out the door. 

“Bud, make sure the armory is stocked,” Negan barked. “Now!”  Once Bud was out the door, he let Lucille fall limp at his side. He stared down at the Wolf, eyebrows raised. 

“You’re a stupid motherfucker, you know that.”

“You’re even stupider for not wanting to change. People aren’t supposed to be here-”

Lucille cracked against the Wolf’s skull. Turtle turned her head, backing towards the door. The beating was the shortest Turtle had ever witnessed - the Wolf didn’t seem to be trying. He fell limp after a few hits, dead. When Negan finished, he was panting. Once again, his leather jacket was bloodied and Lucille was dripping, the only sound in the room coming from the little droplets that clung and fell from her barbs.

“Go to sleep, Turtle.”

“Negan-”

“Sleep. Now.”

Turtle nodded, though he couldn’t see. Her feet took her out the door as slowly as they had brought her in.  
~ ~ ~

Turtle’s arm was on fire that night. Her bum arm. It was burning and the pain, oh, the pain wasn’t enough to make her shriek and writhe but it was there. She lay on a mattress in a roomful of women, the blankets draped over her, a small fan churning in the corner.

Why won’t the pain go away?

Turtle gasped, only closing her mouth when she realized not a single women had been disturbed by her outburst. Everyone was still asleep, and her bum arm was still burning.

She desperately wanted Harlan, the nice doctor from Hilltop. The Sanctuary doctor was creepy. There were rumors that he’d do things with the comatose patients, and rumors were all Turtle needed nowadays to steer clear of people or places. 

She stood, slowly, so not to awaken the women. She found herself wandering, severed arm clutched against her chest as if the contact would ease the pain. 

Her legs brought her to Negan’s room - it was past the parlor where his wives stayed. She desperately hoped he wasn’t up with his tongue down another woman’s throat - not that she’d be jealous, but she needed him, his comfort, his heat. 

She opened the door. The place was empty, and the girls were asleep in their own shared room. Negan’s door was locked, so Turtle knocked three times, pressing her forehead against the cold wood, stifling moans of pain.

A full minute passed before Negan slowly opened the door, staring down at Turtle. 

“My arm,” Turtle whined. “It hurts."

 “Fuck. Let’s go get-”

“No,” Turtle gasped. She entered his room and unabashedly crawled into his warm sheets. “No, he can’t fix it. I know because…this has happened once before. Phantom pains or whatever. My arm is freaking out cause’ it thinks its still there…”

Negan gently shut the door, locking it and quickly padding over to the bed, where Turtle was curled in the fetal position. A tear spilled down her cheek and she grimaced, disappointed by her weakness. 

“I can’t help you, Turtle,” Negan sounded distraught, and he most likely didn’t even know it. 

"I know.” 

“Then why did you come here?”

“I need you…you.”

Negan held Turtle’s face between his hands, his mouth like a feather against hers. He was being gentle, she realized, as if she were a glass teacup on the verge of shattering. 

Negan slid into bed, allowing Turtle to rest her head against his broad chest. The pain began to ebb away and she lay, eyes open, staring up at the ceiling. Negan’s fingers lightly stroked her hair. 

“Is the pain gone?” Negan suddenly asked. Turtle, eyes red rimmed, her teeth aching from her constant clenching, glanced up at him and nodded, stretching sore muscles.

“Thank you for this,” Turtle murmured. She pulled him into a kiss, sighing against his mouth. “Can I stay the night?”  “Yeah. Sure,” Negan inched to the side. “I would normally fucking mind…”

Turtle quickly slid her hand down his pants. 

“…But I like you more than I can fucking admit. You and your mouth,” Negan gave her a dopey grin. 

“You wanna…?”  

Turtle slid beneath the covers. She wrapped her small mouth around him and he bucked his hips, nearly choking her - she pulled away and giggled, running fingers through her long hair.

“Get up here, babe,” Negan growled. His big hands hastily yanked Turtle’s shirt over her head, fingers ghosting across the skin of her ribcage. He squeezed her soft skin, eyes soaking in her naked frame. One hand wrapped lightly around her throat while the other palmed her breast.

“You are fucking gorgeous, doll. Sure you don’t wanna-”

“No. I’m not becoming a wife,” Turtle snapped. “Don’t ask me again.”

“Fine,” Negan mumbled. His mouth latched onto her breast, and Turtle couldn’t help but giggle when his stubble tickled her skin. They were a rolling mess of tongue and clothes and hands.

He heaved her up and let her flop onto her back. She stared up at him, smiling, bum arm hooking around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. She felt like a teenager, sneaking around with someone she shouldn’t - being quiet. Negan’s hand slid over to cover her mouth and stifle her groan as he slid into her. His hand kept her from outright screaming as he fucked her into the mattress, hard, way harder than he ever had before. Her moans transformed into whimpers as she squeezed out a tear - it felt so good, and he was so warm, his body like a heated blanket across her frame. Her legs ached as she clenched them around his waist and her toes curled.

It was the feeling of his teeth against her ear that undid her, and his hand pressed harder into her mouth as she gave a low, loud groan. 

“Shh. We’ve gotta be fucking quiet, doll,” Negan snapped. He was still moving, muscles straining, teeth clenched. He pulled out and groaned, spilling onto her stomach. Even he was unable to stifle his groans and pants, staring down at her, chest heaving. 

“You’re cleaning this up,” Turtle gasped, laughing. A smile crept onto Negan’s face and he leaned down to capture her lips once more. When he pulled away, Turtle gasped and said, “You made it, you clean it.”

“Naughty, naughty” Negan replied. “You get off on having to be quiet?"

“That wasn’t the only thing getting me off.”

“You are fucking welcome, madame,” Negan beamed. “I live to serve.”

“Good. Now serve me and clean this up. Then we’ll talk.”  
~ ~ ~

Turtle was woken for the second time that night. Her arm no longer ached and Negan was curled up behind her, arms wrapped tight around her, nose buried against the back of her neck. He was fast asleep, bare chest moving up and down in a steady rhythm. 

Something else woke her. A bad feeling in the pit of her stomach combined by the sound of footsteps from the room directly above them, coupled with the flicker of a light flashing through their window. 

Something was wrong.

She sat up, groaning, blinking as she adjusted to the darkness. She rubbed her eyes, bum arm extending to poke Negan in the chest. 

“Hey,” Turtle groaned. “Negan, wake up.”

Negan flinched, but did not stir.

“Negan!”

Turtle didn’t know whether or not it was her voice, or the sudden explosion of gunfire that shattered the windows and rocked the compound. Negan shot up like a rocket, covers spilling from across his chest and arms.

“What the fucking fuck?” Negan cursed and rolled from the bed, rummaging for his clothes. Turtle, stunned, saw bullets embedded in the walls around them.

“Get dressed,” Negan barked. Turtle obeyed, hastily pulling her clothes back onto her body, amazed by how quick she was moving - she’d adjusted to having a single upper limb better than she thought she would. 

Negan gripped Lucille tightly, but before he could exit the room he pointed to Turtle and growled, “Stay here. Get your gun and lock the fucking door. I’ll knock six times when it’s safe to come out.”

“No.”

“Are you fucking listening to me? Stay here with the girls-”

“No,” Turtle replied. She picked up the handgun lying on the bedside table. “I’m right behind you.”

“Turtle-”

Someone screamed. It was far off, but pained and animalistic. 

“I’m going,” Turtle said, pushing past Negan and entering the parlor. His wives stood, huddled together.

“Sherry, you’re in charge,” Negan instructed. "You know where the gun is. Lock all the doors and hide out,” he trotted behind Turtle. “Miranda, don’t be a dumbass, okay?”

Miranda nodded. She was a pretty woman with black hair and a sharp nose. 

Her eyes fell across Turtle, and her lips pulled back over her teeth in a hostile snarl.

Turtle ignored her. She said to Negan, "It’s the Wolves. They’re in.” 

“How the fuck did they get in? We have extra guards, everything’s locked the fuck up…either I fucked up, which is entirely possible, or someone else fucked up.”

“We’ll worry about who fucked up later,” Turtle replied. She turned to Negan, back against the parlor door. “I….adore you.”

“You’re acting like this is goodbye,” Negan smirked. “Hell, no. I’m not saying goodbye to you anytime soon.”

Turtle smiled.

“Let’s go hunting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooo more smut. Then violence, of course.


	11. Mark Of The Beast

Negan’s men were getting mauled. The Wolves and their attack dogs, snarling, spitting canines, were darting across the Sanctuary and mowing down anyone in their path. There had to be at least thirty wolves, all brandishing weapons that ranged from knives to axes to even spears. They called and controlled their beasts with whistles and clicks. 

A dozen Saviors lay dead. The ones fighting back were met with snapping jaws - the sound of gunfire and screaming was deafening to Turtle. Negan didn’t seem to be bothered by the blood. One of his men had already turned and was snapping, arms extended as it lay, speared clean through the chest and impaled on the ground.

“Hound. He’s here,” Turtle said quickly. “He has to be.”

“The leader?” Negan replied. “Yeah. He fucking is, and I’m going to fucking bash his head in and fucking piss on the remains.”

“Nice image,” Turtle said, moving from the shadows when she saw Paula and Donnie emerge from within the vast factory. They were firing in unison, rifles raised and pointed at the approaching Wolves.

“Where’s Dwight?” Negan asked.

“I don’t know,” Turtle raised her handgun. It took three shots to send a rushing dog collapsing. His human companion ran at them, snarling, but was knocked back by Lucille slamming against his chest, then his head with enough force to crack his skull. He collapsed, twitching. 

“Fuck,” Negan cursed. “Goddamn fucking fuck!” 

“Watch your profanity.”

Negan gave Turtle a playful shove, before tensing up again. He crouched alongside a parked car with missing wheels, gesturing for Turtle to follow. He brandished Lucille like a club, emerging behind a wolf and scrambling his brains with a hard knock to the side of the head. 

It’s canine friend leaped. Negan brought Lucille down in a wide arc, driving the dogs head into the concrete.

Bud darted past, gun in hand. Several saviors, at Negan’s command, had taken up positions behind trucks and around corners. The wolves were fast, and their dogs were faster - one missed shot spelt disaster for most of Negan’s men. 

The biggest of the Wolves walked through the wide open gate, a trio of matted dogs nipping at his heels. He was tall - much taller than Negan, but even from a distance Turtle could tell that he wasn’t normal. He walked as if he struggled to carry the weight of his own body, and with each step she could see pure muscle flexing beneath his layers of clothing. 

“He’s huge,” Turtle said. “I mean, really huge.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You won’t be able to take him on.” 

“Thanks for the fucking support,” Negan grumbled. He gripped Lucille, staring down at the barbed bat. “Can’t know until you fucking try.”

 Something arced above their heads and shattered against the factory walls. It was a molotov, and immediately the fire spread, licking at anything it could find. 

The skies became alit. Turtle squinted through the fire, past the lead Wolf and out the Sanctuary gates. In the distance, hobbling along a long stretch of road, were the undead. At least a hundred of them, drawn by the sound of gunfire.

“We’ve gotta shut that gate,” Turtle said frantically. She pointed, and Negan followed her fingers, mouth twitching when he saw the herd - a small herd, but a herd nonetheless - approaching in the distance. 

“You aren’t getting past him-”

“Thank’s for the support,” Turtle mocked. Then, “The guards are dead. No one else is going to do it. We have a better chance against these Wolves than we do a horde. Trust me.”

Negan stared at her. Another barrage of gunfire pulled him out of his trance, and he nodded. “I hate it when you’re fucking right. I’ll distract big-boy, alright? Can you make a run for the gate and close it, with your arm and all…?” 

“I can do it just fine.” 

Negan nodded, though the concern did not leave his otherwise stern face. They split apart, each looping around the lead wolf until Negan could approach him from the side. Face to face they stood, Negan uncomfortably tiny next to the lead wolf - Hound, if Turtle remembered correctly. Even from behind Turtle was able to confirm her own internal assumptions that yes, he was most definitely using drugs to enhance his appearance and strength. He had to be - no human was that muscular and that outright calm about the entire situation unless drugs were involved. 

Turtle reached the gate just as Hound’s attention fell on Negan. He tilted his big head up and thrust out his chest, attempting to make Negan look smaller than he already was. He’d drawn an axe from his belt to combat the deadly force of Lucille. 

Turtle swung the gate closed and secured it. Hounds two dogs growled at the noise, bloodstained muzzles bared and ready to attack. Turtle raised her gun, aiming it towards the dogs while Negan held Lucille in a vice grip, ready to attack.

“I’d tell you to run away, but you’ve lost your fucking chance at mercy. So, you fuckers have to die,” Negan and Hound were circling one another, two dominant males checking each others weak points. 

“No. I still plan on taking the cripple,” Hound said lightly, and Turtle recognized his voice from their cabin attackers. “She’s your girl, isn’t she?”

Negan’s eyes darkened. His grip on Lucille became more pronounced, the veins in his wrists and hands bulging. 

The two dogs snarled.

The third…

Where was the third?

Turtle’s face fell. She didn’t dare take her eyes off the two canines before her. Hound’s sudden whistle almost caused her to drop her gun. She was only to regain her composure for a moment before something heavy slammed into her from behind. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Negan ruled Hound, swinging Lucille in an arc so to catch him in the head.

The bat did make contact, tearing hair and flesh from Hound’s face. 

But he was still standing. 

Turtle cried out, arm flailing. Her finger squeezed the trigger and the explosion was deafening. It struck one of the dogs in the chest, causing it to whine and topple over. Hound, who held Negan’s arm in a vice grip as he easily wrestled Lucille from his grasp, roared as his companion was gunned down by Turtle. He released Negan, sending him stumbling with a hard kick to his chest. Hound whistled and the vicious teeth assaulting Turtle’s arm disappeared, replaced by Hound’s strong clasp around her scalp. She was certain that he’d pulled our chunk of her hair as he forced her to her feet and into a headlock. He practically ripped the gun from Turtle’s fingers, using his free hand to aim the weapon at Negan, while the sharp edge of his axe lay against Turtle's throat.

He was emotional, heaving, face red with adrenaline. 

“Put down the bat,” Hound said, sounding almost joyful. “Or I cut her throat open.”

Shocked, Turtle watched as Negan obeyed, lowering Lucille to the ground. He stood back up slowly, eyes boring holes into Hound. The Wolf nodded, clutching Turtle tighter.

“Now fucking put her down,” Negan snarled. He stepped forward, only freezing when Hound’s axe pressed hard enough against Turtle’s skin to draw blood. Negan's voice was low and threatening, with just a hint of worry as he watched the drop of crimson trickle down onto Turtle's shirt. "Don't you dare fucking hurt her, you fucking cocksucker!"

Turtle whimpered, breathing through her nose. Negan’s expression was heartbreaking, his muscles tensing as Hound began to back away, closer to the gate they’d worked so tirelessly to keep shut. 

Turtle had one idea, and even she was ashamed at it’s pretentiousness and how cliche it was. She desperately hoped she would have something to grab - and she did. She clasped a hand between Hound’s legs and twisted as hard as she could. Hound roared, distracted, and Turtle slipped from his grip and fell onto her rear. She saw Negan rush forward, heedless, slamming into Hound and driving him back. Hound’s advantage over Negan was noticeable and, as he held Negan back, he whistled. 

The dog fell upon Turtle. She screamed, and Negan replied with cry of terror and pain as Hound’s fingers closed around his arm. Turtle heard the unmistakable crack of bone as Hound snapped Negan’s arm as if it were nothing more than a dry twig. He continued to wrestle Hound for possession of his handgun.

She raised her bum arm and the dogs clamped onto her skin, tearing through what remained. Turtle lashed out with a kick that knocked the wind out of her canine attackers, giving her enough time to draw her machete and swing.

It took three chops to kill the dog. Blood sprayed and it was in her mouth and her eyes and up her nose. She thrust the machete forward, catching the remaining dog in the leg. It yelped, but did not fall, darting behind its human counterpart.

Turtle rolled over, wiping away blood, just an explosion vibrated through her eardrums. She saw the smoking barrel of her handgun, gripped between Hound’s bloodstained fingers. For a moment, the fighting between the two men ceased, and Negan staggered back, mouth open in shock.

It didn’t register in Turtle’s mind that he’d been shot. She saw the dripping blood on his fingers as he cradled his stomach, teeth grit. He glanced at Turtle, looking as if he wanted to say something, but he was forced to twist his body as Hound’s axe came tumbling down.

Negan was lucky - his reflexes were second to none, and had he not leaped to the side last minute, the axe would have embedded itself into his skull. Instead, it caught him between the shoulder and the neck, sinking deep. Hound ripped it away, cutting through flesh and sinew. 

Negan’s face and neck became painted in blood. He stumbled back, eyes wide and his hand reached up to clasp at the life-sapping wound. 

“Run! Get your ass back and run!”

Turtle begged him to listen. She couldn’t tell whether not the saltiness against her lips came from her tears or from the blood. Negan staggered, swaying, before he turned and began sprinting towards the interior of Sanctuary. 

Hound whistled. His remaining dog bolted after Negan, making pace behind him. Turtle would have followed, but she saw the glare in Hound’s eyes as he stalked towards her, bloody axe by his side. 

She was going to die. This man, doped up on drugs, was going to murder her.

Lucille lay abandoned on the grass. She briefly wondered if Negan had left it for her, or if he’d simply forgotten it, bogged down by the gunshot wound in his stomach and the axe wound on his shoulder. There was no way, Turtle concluded, that he would ever forget something like Lucille - the barbed bat was a part of him. 

He’d left it for her. 

Turtle gripped Lucille tightly between her single hand. She was small, and the bat wasn’t made for her. 

Hound swung his axe and Turtle deflected it. The sheer force of his attack nearly caused Lucille to spiral from her grip. She heaved the bat upward, striking Hound in the face. The blow tore the skin from his cheek and around his eye, leaving it a bleeding mess.

He bellowed and swung, but the attack was haphazard and messy. Turtle leaped and his axe passed an inch away from her stomach. Hound stumbled, falling to one knee, and Turtle lifted Lucille and brought her down upon Hound’s skull.

He shook it off and stood. He hooked his axe around Lucille and tugged, wrenching Turtle off her feet. She fell, the barbed bat slipping from her fingers. 

Hound’s face was a blood-soaked mask. He looked like a roamer, one eye swelled shut while the other leaked fluid. His teeth were bared and his steroid-infused muscles were flexing as he stalked up to Turtle, ready to chop her apart.

“Hey, asshole!”

Paula stood behind Hound. She raised the shotgun in her hand and fired. The buckshot blew a chunk of flesh the size of a steak from Hound’s shoulder. 

He still stood. Turtle abandoned Lucille and crawled over to her machete, gripping its slippery handle. Paula fired again and Hound roared, still upright and approaching Turtle with furious abandon. 

Paula was pumping buckshot after buckshot into Hound’s torso. Turtle rushed him, machete raised. She cut a clean slice into his neck, splitting open the jugular and causing blood to spray like a garden hose. She chopped again and again until Paula was out of bullets and Hound’s head was rolling onto the grass, mouth open and frozen in the same expression.

Turtle collapsed onto her rear, letting out a choked sob. Paula dropped her gun and limped over to Turtle, pushing her red hair away from her face.

“Get up.”

 Turtle didn’t move.

“I said get up,” Paula nudged her. “Your boy is hurt. Probably dead.”

Turtle sluggishly stood, retrieving Lucille and following Paula back to the Sanctuary. Bodies were scattered across the lawn, Wolf and Savior alike. A few were staring to turn, arms clutching at the air as they tried to walk on severed legs and burnt limbs. 

Despair took hold Turtle. Negan lay on the concrete in a puddle of his own blood. Bud was driving bullet after bullet into the remaining dog.

“Robert! Where’s Robert!” Turtle screamed. She saw Dwight rush from within the compound, rifle in hand. Four men were on his heels.

They had the audacity to push Turtle away from Negan’s fallen form. Her hands gripped his shirt, searching for life in his closed eyes. He wasn’t moving - probably wasn’t breathing. Turtle didn’t know. 

“Get the fuck away!” 

“Is he dead? Is boss dead?” Bud was in hysterics. He helped Dwight as they began to drag Negan back inside the compound, leaving Paula and Donnie and whoever remained to deal with the roamers, once Saviors and Wolves, as they began to turn and stalk towards whatever food source they saw. 

“He’s not dead,” Turtle howled, watching as Dwight closed the compound doors shut, allowing Robert to fall over Negan’s wounds. He allowed Turtle to approach this time, and she did, setting Lucille against his arm and practically cradling his face between her hands. 

Everything fell quiet. No more gunfire. Robert’s heavy breathing and the clicking of guns echoed throughout the compound, along with Turtle’s soft whimpers. 

“Hey. Hey,” Turtle whispered. “Look at me. Open your eyes.”

Negan remained motionless, though his eyes twitched beneath closed lids. 

“You wanna know my name?” Turtle sobbed. “It’s Tessa. That’s my name. Tessa.”

Negan’s eyes opened. He stared at Turtle as Robert’s gloved hands began patching him up. His face was deathly pale from the amount of blood he’d lost - it painted his body and the floors and Turtle’s hands, like red acrylic. Like some sort of surreal art.

“Hi, Tessa.”

 Turtle bowed her head and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> much pain. Very sad.


	12. 666

Dwight fell into command two days later. Negan was still drifting in and out of consciousness, slipping from one realm to the next as he struggled to even breathe properly.

Paula had suggested tying him to the bed, just in case he died in the middle of the night and awoke as a roamer. Her suggestion had sent Turtle walking from the room, biting her lip. She hadn't wanted them to see her tears as they fell like a waterfall. She'd ended up weeping on a staircase in the back of Sanctuary, far from prying eyes.

She sat, now, on Negan's bed. He lay motionless, eyes closed, face far too pale with a slight, bluish hue. Every few minutes Turtle would reach over and run a finger against his neck, checking his pulse. Just in case. Just in case she needed to do the unthinkable - she wondered if she'd even be able to. Negan's existence had become sort of a tether to Turtle, a reminder of her family and the pain she'd endured. She didn't want to forget - he'd been there, he knew what had happened.

"Hey. Tess, right?"

Turtle turned her head. Negan's eyes were slightly open, mouth tugged upwards into a smile. Turtle's eyes widened and her heart practically leaped from her chest as she watched Negan raise his eyebrows, awaiting an answer.

"Yeah," Turtle replied. "Yeah. You heard me?"

"Fuck yeah I heard you," Negan closed his eyes, and for a second Turtle though he'd slipped back into unconsciousness. She was proven wrong when he spoke, keeping his swollen eyes shut. "I like that name."

He sounded drugged, his words sluggish and slow. He probably was drugged, Turtle realized - whatever Robert had given him to keep the pain at bay must have been strong.

"I don't. I was named after my great-grandmother," Turtle mumbled. "She was awful."

"Hm," Negan hummed. Turtle slid her legs onto the big bed, draping herself next to Negan and lying on her side. He shifted his head slightly, meeting Turtle's gaze, his nose an inch from hers.

"I killed Hound, by the way. Took his head off."

"That's my girl."

Turtle licked her lips. Negan seemed to notice the dark circles under her eyes, the patched up cuts on her face, and the fact that she moved as if she had sore limbs. He said slowly, "Are you doing okay?"

"No. But I can't complain," Turtle replied. "You almost got yourself killed. How many stitches did Robert have to put in you? How much blood did you lose?"

"Too fucking much," Negan groaned. "It's fucking embarrassing. I got my ass handed to me."

Turtle reached out to touch his face, fingers running across the coarse, growing stubble. "You fought, though. And we won."

"You won."

There was a knock on the door. A moment later, Dwight walked in, eyes flashing briefly when he noticed Turtle and Negan, side by side on the bed.

"You're awake."

"Fuck yeah I am," Negan winced as he watched Turtle slide from the bed. She kept her eyes on Dwight's thin face as he crossed his arms, leaning against the wall, clearly disappointed that there was about to be yet another change in command, now that the real leader was verbal and able to issue commands. He and Turtle, while not friends in the slightest, could tolerate each other's presence. Turtle could work with him.

She could keep an eye on him.

"What do you want us to do about the Wolves? At least a dozen of them escaped," Dwight replied. "Even without a leader, they're still dangerous."

"They'll attack again," Turtle said. She stood next to the bed, keeping a hand on Negan's shoulder, just for the sake of contact. "They're bold enough to do that."

"What the fuck do you think we should do?" Negan said sarcastically. "You're in charge Dwight, correct? I'm assuming your dick is big enough to think of something bold. Or do you want me, once again, to do all the fucking work?"

Dwight grit his teeth, nodding. "You make the best decisions."

"Absa-fucking-loutely," Negan snapped. "Send a team after them. Bud, T, and about six others. Bud's a good tracker - those assholes don't know how to cover their fucking paths."

"Bud and T," Dwight nodded. "Got it."

"Kill all the Wolves," Negan sighed. "No more fucking negotiating."

Dwight, once again, heeded Negan and exited the room, leaving Turtle and Negan alone once again.

After a long stretch of silence, Negan said, "You need to get back to work. We need you and your shit preparing for a fight, not you fawning over me."

"I'm fawning over you because I care about you," Turtle replied softly. "You did the same to me when I lost my arm.

"You losing your fucking arm was on me," Negan said, sighing and closing his eyes. Turtle noticed that his teeth were still clenched and a permanent wince seemed to have washed over his face. He needed more pain pills. "I made a shit decision, and you almost fucking died because of it."

"Negan," Turtle said. "It's not-"

"No. Shit…I need more fucking pain meds…shit hurt's like a bitch. Can you go get Robert?"

Turtle nodded. She quickly leaned over and boldly pressed her lips against his, just for a moment. She could have sworn his face softened as he kissed back.

She sought out to find Robert, ignoring the harsh glares of his wives - Miranda in particular - as she exited the parlor.  
~ ~ ~

Bud left with a group of six, all on salvaged motorcycles. Soon, Paula and Turtle followed, splitting apart at a crossroad.

Turtle was in the passengers seat of an old truck, Paula at the wheel. The gun in Turtle's lap was a rifle, heavy and awkward compared to her usual handgun or machete. Her bum arm rested against the open window, her jacket pulled tight against her.

"Robert said that Negan's gonna make it," Turtle said, just for the sake of conversation, and for the sake of proving Paula wrong.

"So? He'll probably just get himself killed later," Paula replied, not taking her eyes off the road. She smirked. "They always do that."

"Why do you have such a stick up your ass?"

"Why do you?"

Turtle rolled her eyes. "The world sucks. This world sucks. I learned that the hard way."

"Same here."

"Did you watch your mom, dad, and brother get murdered? Not even by roamers, but by people. Humans like you and me. Did you watch them gang rape your six year old sister, kill her, then proceed to do the same to you for three days?"

Paula didn't reply. She just let out a breath through her nose, lips clenched together. Her discomfort and anger was palpable, and Turtle's couldn't what exactly it was addressed towards.

"I'm sorry," Turtle suddenly said. Her mouth opened, then closed as she tried to find the words. "I'm sorry. It's not a competition - you've lost things, too."

"Whatever."

"I've changed."

"Yeah. Me too. We all change."

Turtle tilted her head back, staring at the passing trees. A few roamers hobbled along the side of the road.

In the distance, something began to drone on. It didn't stop - a low rumble.

Like a truck horn.

It was very, very distant, but audible enough that Turtle leaned forward in her seat, ears perked.

"Do you hear that?" Turtle asked Paula. "Real far off - some sort of horn."

Paula replied, "Yeah. I hear it. It's probably just a bunch of poor, stupid fools."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee, I wonder what poor stupid fools would set off a truck horn at a time like this XD


	13. March Sadness

A few days passed in relative normalcy. Bud and his crew had yet to return - Turtle expected that they'd be out for a while. Tracking was difficult and tedious, and the roamers didn't make it any easier. There was no telling how far the Wolves had retreated.

Turtle made regular deliveries - everything from firework bombs to bombs set on a timer or a trigger. Half were stored in Sanctuary and half were stored at the Satellite Outpost the Saviors had managed to salvage just months before.

And then there was Negan. He wasn't getting worse, but he wasn't getting better, save for his ability to sit up and move his arms, all of this most likely due to the pain meds. Robert didn't know when to ween him off. They needed him back up, moving, fighting. A downed leader was a doomed leader.

On this particular day, Turtle was making a full delivery alone. Paula was somewhere and Donnie - someone Turtle made an effort to avoid - was most likely with her. Bud was the only other person Turtle trusted by her side, and he was out and about. Dwight had offered his assistance, and Turtle had declined. She saw the way he looked at her - predatory. As if she were a piece of meat laid out for him on the cutting board, nothing else. He had yet to ask her for a quick fuck, but Turtle knew it was coming.

After dropping off the bombs, she quietly retreated to Negan's parlor. When she entered, Sherry smiled and Amber seemed indifferent - she was knitting in a corner, legs tucked against her chest. It was Miranda who initially spoke.

"Why don't you just become a wife?"

"With my schedule?" Turtle scoffed, making a joke out of Miranda's comment. "I don't have time to play dress up."

"You have enough time to fuck him."

"So do you, but I don't see you in there visiting."

Miranda raised one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows. She stood from her seat, walking towards Turtle, her strides long and confident. She was taller than Turtle, and she seemed to know that she was far more attractive. Turtle had big, doe eyes and button nose, her lips full and pink against a small mouth. She'd yet to even attempt to cut her brown hair, and it fell down her back and to her waist. She was small and thin and her breasts were in no way large enough to be flattering. In fact, she often wondered whether or not she'd hit puberty. She had six more years till age thirty - it had to come sometime before then, right?

The girl - no, the woman - in front of Turtle was striking. She belonged next to Negan - she was powerful, with a gaze of steel.

And yet, Negan was sleeping with Turtle when he had five women, all prepped and ready for him.

That had to mean something. It just had to.

Kiara and Joan approached, all seeming to take Miranda's side. They'd formed a little clique, Turtle assumed, and Sherry and Amber were excluded.

"The more, the merrier," Miranda chuckled. "He'll get bored of you, eventually. He's had flings before - some redhead, just a week before you showed up. He fucked her for months before he got tired."

Turtle's heart sank, but she managed a forced glare. "Uh-huh. I'm going to go see him, now."

"Sherry sucked his dick last night."

"No I didn't," Sherry barked. She rolled her eyes. "Fuck off, Miranda. Let her be."

Miranda raised her hands in a placating gesture. She backed off, allowing Turtle to hastily storm into Negan's room. She shut the door behind her - locked it - all while he sat up.

"How much shit did you bring in?"

"Three boxes. I'm done until next week - I need more steel and new gloves."

"Did you tear the other ones?"

"Yeah," Turtle gnawed on her lower lip. "Sorry. I wasn't paying attention."

"Thinking about other shit, huh?" Negan snorted. "Please be fucking careful. You lose your other arm you can't jerk me off anymore."

"Wow."

Negan spread his good arm - the other was a bruised, bruised mess - as if awaiting a hug. "You miss me?"

Turtle, heedless, slid onto the bed. Despite her small size she was still careful not to press her full weight against him, instead, sliding herself up his hips and capturing his lips. He chuckled as she kissed down his neck and to his bare chest, teeth lightly scraping at the skin.

"What did you come in here for?" Negan asked. Turtle sat back up, hand running through his hair. His stubble was hard against her face as she kissed him again, tongue flitting against his.

"What do you think?"

"Oh. So you did miss me?"

"I did. Making bombs can be boring," Turtle murmured against his mouth. "And Paula doesn't make….well, she makes good conversation, but only for a little bit."

"You'd much rather fuck me?"

"Fuck or suck. Your choice."

"Well, I can't exactly do much," Negan ran a hand across his bandaged body. "I want to fuck you, though. I'll need more pain pills for that."

"Uh-huh," Turtle had already disappeared under the cover, taking him in her mouth and savoring how his hips twitched in response and he growled, the sound low in his chest. Turtle chuckled, tongue flicking lightly against his head. She came up to kiss him, her hand wrapping around his shaft while her bum arm rested against the bedframe.

"I fucking missed this," Negan sighed and Turtle stroked him.

"You have wives. You could fuck them anytime."

Negan's eyes opened and his mouth shifted downward. It was barely noticeable, but Turtle was inches from his face and close enough to see.

"Well…shit. They aren't you, babe."

In that moment, Turtle realized that, oh God, she was one-hundred and fifty-billion percent sure that she was in love.  
~ ~ ~

Turtle exited Negan's room, head ducked. She didn't see Kiara or Joan - Amber was still knitting, speaking softly with Sherry.

"Hey."

Turtle spun. Miranda stood in front of her, hair framing her face like a halo. Her hand moved, fast as lighting, and Turtle found herself stumbling back.

Warm blood began to trickle from her nose. She gasped, watching as Sherry leaped to her feet and rushed over before Miranda could punch Turtle again.

"Stop it!" Sherry, small in comparison to Miranda, was able to shove her away. Miranda stumbled and absently, Turtle found her hand leaving her face and reaching for the knife tucked into her pants.

She wondered, briefly, what she'd become. She was six second away from murdering Miranda, driving the knife into her gut and leaving her to turn.

"You're going to let her take this from us? Take everything we've sacrificed for safety - you're just going to let her walk in and take it all?"

"Miranda, shut up," Sherry said firmly. "Turtle, you need to leave. Now."

"What do you think I was doing?"

Turtle stalked towards the door, her grip on her knife abandoned. She wiped away more blood, sniffing. Before she could reach the parlor door, it swung open and Carson walked in, brushing up against Turtle.

Without preamble, he said, "Bud is dead."

"What?" Turtle snapped. All eyes were on Carson, now. Even Miranda seemed shocked. An uncomfortable silence hung over the room as Carson struggled to speak.

"Bud and his group. They're dead," Carson repeated. "Some redneck, a ginger, and a black lady - they killed Bud and T and everyone else. Every last one."


	14. All In Good Time

Two months passed. In those two month's, Negan began to walk and eat and pummel roamers using his trusty Lucille. Turtle could tell that each movement still pained him, but he seemed in a much better mood now that he'd shoved Dwight from command.

He'd spent two months reorganizing Sanctuary and barking orders at his men and making supply runs - all the while weening himself off pain pills and medications that would keep him from collapsing in a heap of agony.

Turtle was his break. Not his wives, but her - in fact, Sherry had commented that, since Turtle's arrival at Sanctuary, he'd only slept with them twice. And it hadn't been a pleasant or particularly long experience.

He was currently nuzzling Turtle, his face pressed against her shoulder. She knew because she was the first to wake, opening her eyes and staring at the ceiling of the treehouse. She wore Negan's white shirt - the rest of her clothes were in a pile off to the side, along with Negan's jacket, belt and pants. She had a slight headache - the empty, open bottles of alcohol rolling around next to the mattress confirmed Turtle's suspicion that Negan was passed out drunk off his ass. Of the two, Turtle was sober - barely.

She rolled over, gently shoving Negan's arm. He didn't stir, most likely due to her gentleness - his shoulder was still healing and still a bit mangled.

"Hey, you big doof," Turtle whispered. She leaned over and gently nipped his ear - he opened his eyes, running a hand across his face as Turtle pressed gentle kisses against his neck.

"The fuck…holy shit my head hurts."

"You drank too much."

"No shit, Sherlock" Negan squeezed his eyes shut. "I have this wonderful memory of your ass, and your tits… did that actually happen or was I fucking hallucinating?"

"Oh, hush," Turtle gave him a gentle shove, sitting up and crossing her legs. She stared down at Negan and he met her gaze, still awaiting a legitimate answer. "Okay, yeah. You fucked me. And I enjoyed it."

"Cool."

"That's all you have to say? Cool?"

"What else do you want me to fucking say, babe?" Negan shrugged, gesturing for Turtle to move closer. She did, straddling his waist and staring down at him, head tilted to the side. His fingers began tracing light patterns against the soft skin of her hips. "I barely remember it. I know that I fucked you against the wall and you screamed-"

"Yep. Yep, that did happen."

Negan smiled. "I think…Miranda was the last person who enjoyed that rough shit."

Turtle's face fell. Her discomfort must have been obvious, for Negan sat up, keeping a firm hold on Turtle's waist.

"I should probably shut the fuck up about my wives."

"Miranda is jealous," Turtle explained quickly. "She and I talked a few months ago…when you were still really hurt."

"Ah, shit. That bitch is always onto something," Negan sighed, his fingers moving slowly up Turtle's waist. "She always sulks when I mess around, but she lightens up."

Messing around. Turtle winced, glad that Negan didn't notice.

That's all they were doing. That was the truth, her reality, and Turtle scolded herself for thinking it to be anything more.

She leaned down and pressed her lips against Negan's chest, kissing her way up until she reached his mouth. He smirked against her lips, cradling her face in his hands. Turtle scraped her teeth against his tongue and giggled when his hands finally slid beneath her shirt, grasping at her breasts.

"No," Turtle chuckled and rolled her hips against his, edging him on. She stood before he could flip her over, walking over and tossing Negan his jacket. "No more. I don't have an endless sex drive like you. Plus, we have to be at the Outpost, remember? We're meeting Craig and Ethan and them. They're bringing us supplies."

"Shit," Negan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can we not?"

"You set up the meeting. You're going," Turtle haphazardly threw Negan his pants. "Get up."

"Fuck," Negan rolled his eyes and stood, stretching. Turtle watched out of the corner of her eyes - he'd managed to gain a fraction of the weight he'd lost back. He was far thinner than before, but still possessed sat least some muscle. Enough to hold Turtle down and fuck her silly, like he'd done the previous night.

"I want Gregory fucking dead," Negan suddenly said. "Like, immediately. The little bastard is getting on my nerves."

"Uh-huh."

"You don't seem to care."

"Gregory isn't my problem. If you want him dead, you're gonna have to kill him somehow. Someway subtle, because I really don't want to waste these bombs on someone like him."

"How subtle?"

"I don't know. I'm not good at planning this stuff," Turtle pulled on her shirt. "That what you're for. You're the planner, so plan."

"Negan smiled. As Turtle walked by, he gave her ass a playful smack. She leaped, yelping.

"In that case, I have an idea. A fucking good idea."  
~ ~ ~

They arrived at the Satellite Outpost during lunchtime. Along with the regular group of guards, Paula was there, Donnie by her side. She greeted Turtle with a nod, gesturing to the six Hilltop residents standing next to the red pickup truck that they'd arrived in. Turtle couldn't see whether or not the back was stocked - even while craning her neck, she spotted nothing.

She recognized Ethan and Craig. Tim, Marsha, Andy and Crystal she knew by name, and that was it. She hadn't spoken to many of the Hilltop residents. Maybe that's why exploiting them didn't make Turtle feel as bad she should have. Had Jesus been with Ethan, she most likely wouldn't have been able to face him, much less look him in the eye.

They needed this. The Saviors needed this.

"How much shit did you bring?" Negan asked, propping Lucille against his shoulder. Turtle stood next to him, gun slung across her chest. Ethan was glaring daggers at her, his fingers tracing patterns against his shotgun.

"As much as we could," Craig answered. "Everything's accounted for - vegetables, fruits…we're a little short-"

"A little fucking short?" Negan snarled. "You guys have cattle and shit out the ass - how are you short on this shit?"

"Some of it went bad," Andy explained. "We had to dump some of it. It's enough to last you a few weeks, maybe even a month-"

"There are five barrels. How many did I ask for?"

"Eight," Andy answered. He backed up, his shoulder knocking against the side of the truck. "You said eight."

"Count how many fucking barrels are in there. Out loud," Negan twirled Lucille like a baton. "C'mon, out loud. Unless you're a fucking moron who can't count-"

"One, two, three, four, five-"

"That's it?"

Andy nodded. Turtle looked up and saw Ethan's fingers were around his gun, now, his eyes flitting from Turtle to Negan then to Paula, who'd demeanor had transformed from unassuming to hostile.

Shit was about to go down, quick.

Negan swung first. Tim's head erupted in a spray of blood. Ethan raised his gun and fired at Turtle, but she was already moving. The buckshot shattered the glass behind her head - Negan knocked the shotgun from his hand, last second.

One of the two women - Martha - raised her gun at Negan. He was slower, the physical exertion causing his injuries to flair. Turtle raised her gun with one hand and sprayed Martha with half a dozen bullets.

Martha and Tim toppled. Paula had her gun trained on Ethan, Donnie on Andy, Negan on Crystal and Turtle shifted her gaze to Craig.

All of that, Turtle realized, had transpired in about three seconds.

Negan gestured to Ethan. "If you fucking shoot at her again - in fact, don't even look at her. Don't you dare fucking do it," Negan bared his teeth. "I will fucking kill you if you look at her."

Ethan stared at the ground, having torn his gaze away from Turtle.

"Grab that one," Negan pointed towards Craig. Donnie obeyed, manhandling Craig, who stood no chance against Donnie's size and strength, towards the building. "You're going to do something for me, shitstains. Make up for the fact that you can't fucking do what I asked you to do."

"What do you want us to do?" Andy asked.

"Kill Gregory - and bring me his head. Like, his actual fucking head. Right on this spot. If you do that, Craig can go free. And I mean it - I'm not about pulling some double-crossing callback shit. You have my word."

Andy nodded. He had to tug Ethan back, keep him from doing something foolish. Tim was dead on the ground and Martha was breathing her last, courtesy of Turtle.

While the Hilltop residents departed, Turtle took it upon herself to draw her knife and drive it into Martha's head. She did the same to Tim, just for safe measures.

Negan watched her. Her hands were slick with blood when she stood.

"That went well," Paula commented. "Molly and Michelle are inside. They can help deal with Craig."

Turtle glanced over to where Donnie was forcing Craig through the double doors of the Outpost. She said, "Don't…don't go too hard on him."

"Why not?" Paula replied. "We're keeping him alive. That's all that should matter."

"Just don't give him to Primo," Negan waved a hand. "Dude's a straight fucking psycho."

"You leaving?" Turtle asked. Negan turned to her, nodding and staring down at her, his gaze softening.

"Yeah. You wanna stay and help Paula? Just for a few hours. Until nightfall - then head back?" 

"You trust me enough?"

"I trust you enough to do what needs to be fucking done," Negan replied. Turtle stared into Negan's eyes as he quietly added, "I'll talk to Miranda. I will. I promise. I'll tell her to step off."

"Thank you," Turtle smiled. Almost awkwardly, Negan leaned forward and pressed his lips against her forehead. The action was new, even for him. For a moment Turtle briefly wondered if he'd really meant that their relationship was temporary, a fling. Maybe he really did feel something for her underneath that hard, superficial exterior of his.

Off to the side, Paula smirked.


	15. Outpost Babylon

Late that night, as Turtle was leaving, the Outpost erupted in gunfire and screaming.

She'd retreated into the woods, bag in hand, with Paula, Michelle, Molly, and Donnie. Michelle and Donnie were only there to patrol the perimeter - Molly and Paula were sending Turtle off, handing her supplies.

Turtle didn't know what menace was attacking this time. Was it the Wolves? Were they back?

"Well, shit," Molly said gruffly. She pointed to where Donnie was leaping back, clutching his bleeding arm. His attacker raised her gun once more, but Paula was behind her, and Michelle was closing in on the woman's partner - a dark haired woman with short hair, soft features and big eyes.

They surrendered. Turtle watched from the shadows as the sun began to rise and Paula, ever the determinant, ushered the two women towards the chain link fence. From behind it, they watched Primo exit the Outpost on a motorcycle, only making it a few meters before being shot and tackled.

A redneck.

A black lady.

A ginger.

They were all there, headed by a man with the posture and aura of someone like Negan.

"Primo has a walkie," Turtle said quickly, clutching the strap of her bag. The two women glanced at her - the younger of the two seemed to brush her off while the older, grey-haired woman stared daggers into her soul. Turtle gulped, shifting her gaze back to where Primo was being subdued.

"What are your names," Paula snapped. The short hair woman answered first, her words hesitant.

"Maggie. This is Carol."

Carol and Maggie. Turtle memorized their names, coming and standing next to Paula so to get a better look at the group that had mercilessly slaughtered so many Saviors.

Her people. Turtle's people - they were all dead. Yet she felt no ill will towards the two captive women next to her, no blinding rage. Just a sickness that consumed her entire being.

She was part of this. She was a part of something much, much bigger than herself.

"Hey, prick," Paula said smoothly. "I have a Carol and a Maggie. I'm guessing that's something important to you."

The walkie crackled. A man's voice answered, stern and demanding, but hiding a hint of nervousness. "We can talk."

No, they wouldn't. Turtle saw through the bullshit - maybe that's why she felt sick. It was all a lie.

"You're turning red, girl," Donnie sneered, nudging Turtle with his elbow. "You nervous? Being nervous gets you killed."

Carol watched the exchange. Donnie noticed and snarled, clutching his bleeding arm. "Stupid bitch."

Paula cursed, suddenly. She yanked Turtle away from the fence, shoving the walkie talkie into her pocket. Rick was still speaking and Paula was still replying, all the while forcing Carol and Maggie farther from the Outpost. Turtle followed behind, caught between Maggie and Michelle, who took up the rear.

"We won't hurt you," Turtle blurted. Maggie turned her head, big eyes wide with both fear and determination. She swallowed, searching for a reply.

"You won't get the chance to."

Donnie tied Carol and Maggie up, binding their hands first. Paula instructed him to hold out on binding their feet - they'd do that when Michelle arrived with the car. They waited by the road, about two miles from Outpost.

Donnie and Molly were dispatching the last bit of roamers. Turtle sat in front of the two captive women, offering them food from her bag. As she expected, they denied her offers and sat in silence, glaring.

"I'm trying to be the better person here," Turtle finally said.

"How is you kidnapping us being the better person?" Maggie replied.

"How is you killing my people being the better person?" Turtle snapped. "You fired first. You worked with the Hilltop people - you let Gregory and Jesus manipulate you-"

"You know Jesus?"

Turtle stopped. Paula was invested in the conversation now, watching Turtle out of the corner of her eye.

"He saved my life, and I owe him. Just like I owe Negan even though he says that I don't…"

"How long are you going to keep playing both sides, then?" Paula said. Her face was expressionless. She'd mastered the art of keeping everything a secret. "You can't do that and survive."

"I already killed Martha. That Hilltop woman," Turtle shook her head. "I'm trying to make amends, you know. I'm trying to set things straight do things the right way, and if it means sparing these two…"

"Negan gets to decide who to spare. Not his fuckbuddy," Paula said coldly. "And like I said, that kind of thinking will get you killed. I don't want you to die, Turtle. I like you too much for that."

Carol and Maggie fell silent. Maggie looked at Turtle with pity - absolute, unadulterated pity. Turtle noticed how her hands kept clutching at her stomach, almost like a nervous tick.

"I'm removing myself from the situation," Turtle said softly, standing.

"Running won't fix this," Carol suddenly said.

"Neither will staying. Paula," Turtle reached out to touch her friends arm. "There's a gas station with some cars about half a mile west. I'll take that back."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'll let Negan know what's going on. Update him," Turtle turned back to Carol and Maggie. "Your leaders name is Rick, right? Rick Grimes?"

Carol nodded slowly. Her lips were curled down in a pout but her eyes spoke differently.

"Good. Paula, be careful. I'll see you when you get back."

Paula hugged her. It was a brief hug, but a gesture of affection. The redhead touched Turtle's chin gently, before nodding her off.

Turtle turned and began walking the opposite direction, just as Michelle pulled up with a car. Turtle didn't see Paula shoot her one last glance before herding Carol and Maggie into the sedan.

She walked, and didn't dare look back.  
~ ~ ~

Two days passed before Turtle got the news that Paula, Donnie, Michelle and Molly were all dead.

Turtle punched the wall until her hand bled. Negan did not comfort her - his mood morphed entirely to something damn near animalistic, but he kept that cold, calculated edge. He kept a lid on his emotions and let Turtle empty out hers.

"None of this will last," Negan murmured. "It never does."

"Keep telling yourself that."

Negan looked at Turtle with tired eyes, dealing out his own cards. He answered, "Don't underestimate the shit I can do. What's his name…Rick? Yeah, Rick. I'll fucking pummel his spirit into the ground with Lucy if I have to. Which I most likely fucking will. Your turn."

Turtle studied her own cards. She wasn't going to win. Not while sober. She made a move and said, "So we're going to break them?"

"Fuck yes. And then slide our dicks down their throats and have them thank us for it."

"Haven't heard that one before."

"Is that okay with you?"

Turtle smirked, glancing down at the poker chips in her hand.

"All in."


	16. Bunker Hill

"I want to make one last run before the week ends," Turtle said, letting the warm water wash across her face, squeezing her eyes shut. "Pass me the soap, please."

Negan obeyed, though he was the one who ran the soap bar across her shoulders, stomach, and down her back. At first, he didn't reply, focused more on Turtle's wet, naked body than anything else. After Turtle repeated her question he snapped out of his trance.

"You should wait-"

"Dwight's going out with a group to get supplies. A big group. I need more lead, more matches…I'll go with them."

"Fine," Negan mumbled, lathering Turtle with soap. She turned, finally facing him, letting the suds was from her back and shoulders. She looked up at him, doe eyes studying his facial features before migrating past his chin, to his strong shoulders and broad chest. She touched his shoulder, leaning in to press her lips against jaw.

His hands were on her back, sliding down to her hips.

"You shouldn't worry about me."

"Tessa, you only have one fucking arm. Of course I worry sometimes."

Turtle touched the raised scar that ran from his collarbone down to his chest, the mark of an axe. "Yeah, well, I worry about you."

"Is this coming from somewhere?"

"No," Turtle thought for a moment, before quickly changing the subject. "You're the only person outside my family that knows my real name."

"You trust me that much, huh?"

"It's just a name. What can you do with it?" Turtle shrugged, tilting her head and pressing soft kisses against Negan's mouth. The closeness, the slickness of his skin was intoxicating. She spoke between kisses, saying, "What about Lucille-"

"Don't."

Turtle nodded. He pressed his forehead against hers, sighing.

"I'm sorry. Maybe another time, another place."

~ ~ ~

"Dwight?"

"Yeah?"

"When you first met Sherry, before everything went down, how did you let her know that you loved her?"

"Cut that shit out and focus," Dwight had a crossbow dangling from his fingers. Turtle had seen him practicing with it before. He was a decent shot. "Like, actually focus."

They trekked through the forest, Turtle equipped with her bag, handgun, and machete. All quick enough to grab and wield with one arm. She was the only female amongst the group of seven males, Dwight included. She didn't feel uncomfortable - though she still preferred Paula.

She missed Paula. They hadn't even been able to retrieve her body - she was rotting somewhere, maybe a roamer, maybe a cold corpse. They would never know.

"You hear that?"

Turtle turned. She saw a figure moving through the trees, far too coordinated and quick to be a roamer. She saw Dwight draw his crossbow and take aim.

His shot missed. The arrow embedded itself in a tree a foot in front of the man - startled, he tripped and fell, scrambling up and running.

He wasn't very fast. Turtle reached him first, drawing her handgun and all but tackling the man into the dirt. He kicked, scratched at Turtle, but she managed to stand and have him at her mercy on the forest floor.

"Nice mullet."

The man looked close to tears. What was he doing out here? Alone? How was he not dead?

"P-Please-"

"I won't hurt you - unlike them. They don't like talking to strangers, so keep your mouth shut," Turtle growled. Dwight stopped behind her, panting, staring down at the man as he raised his hands.

"Stand up," Dwight gestured with his crossbow, which had become a topic of interest for the man. He couldn't stop staring - even as he struggled to his feet his eyes were trained on the weapon in Dwight's hand.

"Turn around. Walk that way - towards the train tracks. Don't talk, don't say shit, or you die."

The man walked slowly. Too slowly for Dwight's liking, so he kicked him, urging him forward.

They reached the tracks, concealed by the trees and bushes. Turtle heard voices - a woman's voice, shouting.

"Son of a bitch," Dwight suddenly breathed. His eyes widened and he knelt gesturing for everyone else to do the same. He was uncomfortably close to Turtle and his burnt face morphed into an animalistic grin. "That one…."

The redneck.

Turtle blanched. He was arguing with a blonde woman whose back was turned to the trees. Another woman was with them - a beautiful dark haired girl with a steely gaze.

Next to them, their captor was shaking.

"You know them?" Turtle whispered. Beads of sweat dotted his face and his lips were quivering. He didn't say a word, but his sudden increase in agitation, fear and nervousness was enough of an answer.

"Dwight," Turtle hissed. The savior was slowly standing, one eye clenched as he peered through the scope of his crossbow. "Dwight, hang on a second."

"Shut up. Get him ready."

"Dwight, we need to w-"

He fired. Turtle couldn't tell who exactly he'd been trying to hit, but he hit someone. The arrow slid effortlessly through the blonde woman from the back of the head to the front.

The woman toppled. Guns clicked and Dwight burst from cover, his men covering him, holding their captor by the collar.

"Well, hell."

Turtle sighed. She emerged from cover, taking a stand behind Dwight.

"I should've killed you."

Turtle assumed she was missing something. The man with the ratty hair and the dark eyes who had a gun aimed at them knew Dwight.

"Shit," Dwight gestured to Turtle. "Turtle, this is Daryl. We became real good friends on that run I did with Tina and Honey. To be honest, you should have killed me. Kinda begs the question, doesn't it - who brought what on who. I get that. I mean, you'll just have to take my word for it - she wasn't the one I was aiming for."

Once again, Turtle's bullshit senses were tingling. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she clutched her gun tighter, briefly meeting Daryl's gaze. He seemed to be studying who to shoot first - Dwight had his friend in a vice grip. Turtle, the cripple, was wide open.

"Carol told me about you."

"They're alive?" Turtle couldn't keep the slight hint of joy out of her voice.

"Yeah. You're with Negan, right? You're his girl-"

"Hey, we don't have time for conversation. What's your name, sweetheart?" Dwight nodded towards Daryl's companion - the pretty dark haired woman who had her gun trained on Turtle's head.

"Rosita. What do you want?"

"Well, Rosita... it's not what I want. It's what you and Daryl are going to do. You're gonna let us into your little complex. It looks like it's just beautiful in there. And then you're gonna let us take whatever and whoever we want... or we blow his brains out-," Dwight gestured to their captor, "-and then yours. And then Daryl's. I hope it doesn't come to that, really. Nobody else has to die. We just try and start with one. You know... maximum impact to get our point across. So what's it gonna be? You tell me. "

The mullet-sporting man suddenly spoke. "You wanna kill someone, you start with our companion hiding over there behind the oil barrels. He's a first-class A-hole and he deserves it so much more than us three."

The fuck?

Dwight turned. Two of Dwight's men were mowed down by an explosion of gunfire. Turtle watched, frozen in shock, as the man, their captive, still in Dwight's grip, leaned over and sunk his teeth into Dwight's…

Dick?

Turtle suddenly regretted coming with Dwight and his crew. She should have listened to Negan and stayed behind for more shower sex and poker. Instead she was in yet another gunfight, this time facing three people who knew exactly when to aim and fire and who they wanted to hit.

She fell against the train tracks, ducking her head as Dwight managed to shove his assailant away, arms flailing as he rolled away from the gunfire. He fired into empty space, nearly hitting Turtle in the process.

Holy shit. Dwight was going to end up killing her. Misfiring and fucking ending her life. No goddamn way.

Dwight dropped his crossbow. Turtle saw Daryl rush to retrieve it - she had a clear shot at him from her angle.

She and Daryl locked eyes.

She didn't move. Didn't even raise her gun. Dwight gripped her arm and dragged her into the woods, shouting obscenities, limping.

"Daryl! Stop!"

Turtle kept running. She wondered if they were pursuing them.

They ran. Turtle did a quick headcount - they'd lost two of four seven men, excluding Dwight and Turtle.

And then there were five.

~ ~ ~

They camped out at the treehouse, that night. It was awkward, having Dwight sitting up against the wall while Turtle slept on the mattress she and Negan used to fornicate.

He didn't need to know that. Or, maybe, he'd figured it out for himself.

"Get up."

Turtle opened her eyes. Dwight was shaking her awake. The remaining three of his men had descending into the forest below, dispatching a few roamers before giving the all clear. Turtle groaned and rolled from the mattress, stretching sore limbs and following Dwight down the hatch, into the woods.

"Stay silent."

"Stealth mode, activated," Turtle grumbled sarcastically, drawing her handgun. They'd spread out across the forest, like a wave - Turtle saw their two targets. Two different people this time - a slender dark skinned woman and an Asian man. Both looking distraught, both unaware.

That is, before Turtle whistled.

Her companions followed. She saw the shock and fear as the woman drew a sword from seemingly out of nowhere and the man aimed his gun, quickly realizing that they were surrounded.

"Drop your shit, now."

They obeyed. The power had shifted - what once belonged to this group, these terrorist, now belonged to them. Turtle felt prideful.

And she hated it.  
~ ~ ~

Turtle saw Daryl and Rosita first. They were creeping behind the trees, keeping silent.

She had the upper hand. She had the chance, and she took it - they'd walked right past her, unaware that Turtle herself was keeping as far away from the main group as possible. Dwight had gone off to take a piss somewhere.

The Asian man and the black lady began making noise. Groaning against the cloth that kept them from forming any coherent sentences.

No. Behind you. Stop.

Turtle stood a foot away from Daryl, gun raised. Dwight appeared next to her, gun trained on Rosita.

The Asian man and the black lady were in hysterics. It was Turtle's whimper that broke Daryl's focus and caused him to turn and see Turtle, bum arm clutching her stomach, the other shakily aiming a handgun point-blank at his shoulder

"I'm sorry. I don't mean it."

She pulled the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kinda messed up the Daryl and Dwight situation - Dwight met Daryl while on a supply run and took his bike and crossbow.(Lame excuse I know)


	17. P.S

"I know you…I saw you at the Outpost. After you'd killed everyone - snuck up on them, slaughtered them like pigs. I tried not to be mad at you people, but what you did…I've seen it before. It's happened to me. It makes me mad, and I want to do something about it," Turtle knelt, eye level with the two people she'd come to know as Glenn and Michonne. Daryl was unconscious, his wound treated. She'd wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and had propped him up against tree, all while his companions watched, bound by their feet.

The black woman with the sword - Michonne - managed to spit out her gag. She stared at Turtle, her eyes alit with fury. She was stronger, more skilled than Turtle, and would have no problem skewering Turtle with her sword.

And here she was - tied up. Reducing to nothing more than a victim. Just like Turtle had been all that time ago, the bodies of her mother, sister and brother sprawled out beside her.

This woman was lucky. Turtle didn't know why she'd kept Daryl alive. Was it the hesitant expression on Dwight's face when he first stepped up beside Turtle? Was it her own weakness? She'd killed before. Martha's blood still stained her sleeves. She'd retaliated against attacks - against her attackers, against Hound. Against the people in the metro. All instinct, all fear.

Maybe, with Daryl, she'd had time to think. And dangerous those thoughts were.

These people were family. They weren't the Wolves - they weren't psychotic. They were planners and manipulators and survivors. This world seemed to have made them stronger.

Maybe she didn't kill Daryl because she wanted to see what he'd do next. After all, he wasn't like the men who'd held both she and her sister down at gunpoint, stark naked. Turtle knew killing him wouldn't bring her any peace.

"It has to be someone else," Turtle murmured. The idea both frightened and excited her. "Someone else has to die for me to feel better."

"That's not how it works," Michonne said through gritted teeth."Nobody has to die for you to feel better. Nothing will come of it."

"What if that person was you?" Turtle lied, her words used solely for intimidation.

"I'd kill you - I will kill you."

"When a group of men killed my family and gang raped my sister and I for three straight days, I wanted to die. I thought I'd died and I thought I'd entered hell…like, burning hot, with the Devil laughing at me. Someone dragged me out of hell, some sort of savior. But he didn't erase the memories…it still hurts," Turtle practically whined. "It still hurts and I want it gone."

Michonne stared. Turtle was struggling to keep from weeping, her chest heaving.

"You can't destroy everything or everyone who reminds you of what happened. Trust me, I've tried to do the same. It doesn't help."

"One of you're going to die," Turtle whispered. "I don't know who."

"I'm going to kill you," Michonne replied coldly.

Glenn and Rosita struggled against their binds.

"It may be one of them," Turtle pointed, ignoring Michonne's harsh threat. It was not idle - the glare in the woman's gaze told Turtle that she was serious. "I won't be the one killing…it'll be Negan. I'm just the bomb-maker."

"Wait-"

Turtle gagged Michonne before she could reply. She stood, brushing her palms against her pants. Off to the side, Dwight was watching, curious.

Turtle looked at him. "I don't want to be involved in this - in what you're doing with these people. I'll have no part - I've already contributed enough."

"You ain't strong enough to be out here," Dwight replied. "Go home. Tell Negan to gather everyone and meet us at the Satellite Outpost tomorrow afternoon. We'll start from there. Get this over with real quick."

Turtle nodded. She shot one last glance at Glenn, Rosita, Michonne and Daryl. They were all helpless and quite obviously terrified. Dwight and his men circled their captures, like birds awaiting a meal.

Turtle left them to the vultures.  
~ ~ ~

Turtle reached Sanctuary just as the sun was beginning to set. Davis saw her approaching and opened the gate, beckoning her inside. She had a few smoke bombs in his bag and dropped them off in storage before heading to the parlor, eager to see Negan.

She saw Eli standing outside the door, arms crossed, looking slightly annoyed as screams echoed from within the room. A wince tugged at his features as something heavy thudded against the door, followed by a few curses.

Eli was a tall man with a receding hairline and mustache - and he was strong. Maybe as strong as Negan, Turtle didn't know. Height and size was lost on her, especially after taking on someone like Hound.

She shoved Eli aside, only stopping when he gripped her arm.

"Not a good idea."

"He's not going to hurt me. Miranda, on the other hand…" Turtle grimaced. "I'm not afraid of her."

She opened the door and walked into the chaos. Sherry was off to the side, keeping Amber, Kiara and Joan away from the heated argument ensuing between Negan and Miranda. The heavy object thrown against the wall was an old lamp.

"-you haven't talked to any of us in months! We're here because we chose to be - we're here so we can be fed, be safe, and be with you! This is a marriage, remember!"

"I never proposed to any of you, you cunt," Negan barked. "Besides, you should be fucking grateful! Me not fucking any you should be a godsend - you're lucky I haven't kicked all of you out already."

"It's because of her," Miranda snarled. Her gaze shifted and fell across Turtle, lips pulling back over her teeth. She was across the room in seconds, hands digging into Turtle's skin as she shoved her, hard, screaming, "I want you gone!"

Miranda's fingers were around Turtle's neck, suddenly.

Their hands. Oh, God, their hands were around her again, dark eyes staring down at her, sister screaming for help.

Negan gripped Miranda by the hair. With tremendous strength he tossed her like a rag doll across the floor. Miranda cursed, struggling to her feet.

"Put your hands on her again and I'll fucking kill you. Understand?" Negan shouted. "You knock that fucking shit off right now."

"Why her?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Why her? Look at her, cripple," Miranda, panting, gestured at Turtle. "You're surrounded by the best and you're settling for less. I know you can't be in love with her, I just know you can't. Why her?" Miranda's volume increased. "Why her, when you could have me?"

"Miranda," Negan's tone softened. "Chill the fuck out, alright? I'm not fucking choosing her over your or anything like that. I'm with Turtle because I want to be, alright?"

"Am I too boring for you-"

"No," Negan said quickly. He let out a breath, aware that Turtle was standing next to him, rubbing her sore throat. "I just…need a fucking break. She's my break."

Miranda nodded. She raised her hands in a placating gesture, stepping away. "Alright. Fine, fine. Fuck."

"I don't need any more fucking drama," Negan said. "Capiche? You don't fuck with Turtle, Turtle doesn't fuck with you - remember, you don't have to fucking stay here, but it's hell of a lot better than being out in the real world. Turtle can contest to that - right?"

Turtle stood motionless. She didn't bother answering Negan's question - she didn't have too. The wives, Sherry, Amber, all of them, knew that her lost limb was an example of realities harshness.

"Turtle, go inside. Open a bottle. This shit is giving me a headache."  
~ ~ ~

Two hours later, Turtle and Negan sat on the bed, legs crossed. They'd broken out the cards and had grown bored thirty minutes in - the alcohol had yet to take effect. Negan was swigging a bottle, sharing it with Turtle.

"We are two drunken idiots," Turtle suddenly said. "About to go to war. That's right, isn't it?"

"A war is when both sides have an equal chance of winning. A slaughter is when one of them utterly dominates the fuck out of the other," Negan wiggled a finger, swallowing a mouthful of whiskey. "Rick Grimes is going to get his fucking ass dominated."

Turtle laughed. "You might want to reword that."

"Nope. I mean it," Negan smirked. "I'm into that shit."

"Ass domination?"

Negan rolled his eyes, a boyish grin appearing on his handsome face. "No, dipshit. Dominating other people. Me, dominating them-"

"You're digging a deeper hole, Negan."

"Shut up," Negan lunged, tickling Turtle's stomach. He wrestled her onto her back, whiskey dangling from his fingers as he hovered above her. "Well goddamn…this is a nice fucking view."

He could see down her shirt. Turtle turned a bright shade of red. "You perv."

"You fucking like it, don't you?"

"I like your mouth," Turtle whispered. "Maybe you could put it somewhere else..oh."

His tongue slid against her throat. She giggled at the sensation, hearing him set the bottle of whiskey down onto the ground.

"That's it," Negan purred against her skin. "Does that feel nice, baby girl?"

Oh, no. His voice sounded so nice and so soft but with a dangerous undertone. She giggled as he silenced her with a kiss, hastily struggling to get her shirt over her head.

"Hey, slow down," Turtle chuckled when his mouth latched onto her collarbone.

"Can't," Negan grunted. "Sorry, but fuck, I need to be inside you, I need to fuck you-"

"-Negan."

He ignored her. He kissed up to her chin, hips grinding and insistent. Turtle broke a nail fumbling with his zipper.

"Negan, look at me."

Negan stopped. One hand began to massage her, slipping beneath her panties. Negan, a low growl rumbling from within his chest, met her eye just as Turtle pressed a soft kiss to his mouth.

"What?"

"I love you."

"Oh, fuck no."

Turtle fought back tears. She didn't where they were coming from - Negan's response was definitely not one of disgust or anger. It was almost heartbroken, as if he didn't believe her.

"I love you," Turtle said it again, firmly. "I do. I love you-"

"Don't fucking say it again."

Turtle kissed him, and it was a vicious move that left Negan beneath her, bucking his hips as Turtle revealed her bare breasts to him, guiding his big hands to palm them.

"You don't fucking love me."

"I do."

"No," Negan was shaking his head, gasping. "You fucking don't."

"Why not?" Turtle sat back on her hunches, straddling his hips "Why can't I tell you the truth?"

"Because…fuck, I can't fucking say it back."

"Why not?"

"Because-"

"-you don't feel the same way?" Turtle tilted her head to the side. "If not, just say it."

"I fucking can't. I fucking can't, alright? That word is fucking cursed. You think I want to change Lucille's name to 'Tessa'? You know that I fucking care about you and you know how much I need you, but goddamn it do I have to say it out loud?"

"You need me?"

Negan gulped. His eyes darted to an invisible hole in the wall. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Uh-huh," Turtle ducked down to kiss him again, long and slow. "Just like I don't mean this," she slid a hand down his pants.

Negan groaned. He sat up, allowing Turtle to settle in his lap as she stroked him. His breath was warm against her neck and he kissed her arm - the arm he'd severed himself.

"Take off your clothes. Now," Negan demanded.

"Why don't you want to say it out loud?" Turtle replied. "What are you afraid of?"

"I'm ain't afraid of shit."

"Then why can't you say it?"

Negan snorted. He shook his head and, instead, said, "I adore you. Is that fucking enough for you?"

Turtle threw back her head and laughed. "Denial isn't just a river in Egypt," she rested her forehead against his, closing her eyes and sucking in a deep breathe. "And I mean it, Negan. About how much I care about you…I love you."

"I fucking adore you."

"Say it when you're ready."

Negan nodded, slowly and deliberately. His fingers teased the inside of her thigh and his mouth left soft kisses, gentle kisses, against her neck and mouth. "Now, strip."

Turtle did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I went ahead and gave Steven Ogg's character (the lead Savior in the S6 finale) a name - Eli. I don't know why but for some reason, it fit XD hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	18. Tragedy Of The Commons

Turtle managed to get a full night's sleep - a rarity nowadays. Negan's bed was very, very warm, much better than the treehouse mattress she'd come to know. She felt more at home in Sanctuary than anyone else, curled up with her head resting against Negan's bare chest.

"I don't want to get up," Turtle said.

Negan grunted, running his finger's through Turtle's hair. "You think I want to get up either?"

"Then don't."

"I kinda don't have a fucking choice. I have people to fucking fuck up and people to fucking please."

"Watch your profanity."

Negan rolled his eyes as Turtle shimmied her way upward, finally meeting his tired eyes. He touched her face, fingers brushing away her long, stringy hair.

"Fuck, no."

Turtle kissed his neck, teeth nipping at the skin. A low groaned rumbled within Negan's chest. He wrapped his arms around Turtle, chuckling as her mouth latched onto his chin, then his lips.

"We really need to get up."

"Nope," Turtle whispered against his skin. "I'm holding you hostage."

Negan had Turtle pinned on her back in two seconds. He stared down at her, grinning like a shark.

"Have I complimented your tits yet?"

"Yes," Turtle replied. "They're small. I don't like them."

"Sure. Tits are tits, babe," Negan's mouth dipped down to travel past her collarbone. His breath was warm and moist against her skin. One hand crept between her legs, spreading them apart so he could enter her in one solid stroke. It stung at first, her small body adjusting to his girth yet again. Her hands gripped at his shoulders, nails biting into tough skin. His sheer size was enough to make Turtle begin to tremble as he moved. She was small and thin, wiry, like that of a snake. He was powerful and broad. It wasn't an even match whatsoever.

But it was a match, nonetheless. And Turtle fully intended to win it.

"Let me-"

There was a knock on the door. Negan pulled out quickly, cursing and breathing heavily against her shoulder.

"Dwight," Negan growled. "Little bastard," he placed a kiss against Turtle's mouth, tugging at her lower lip with his teeth. "I forgot…we have shit to do today, don't we?"

"Yeah," Turtle groaned as Negan's mouth found her pulse. "You have shit to do. You're making me stay here."

"It's for your own good, baby," Negan murmured. "It won't take long for Prick Grimes to realize that he's fucked up, big-fucking time."

"Uh-huh. Teach him a lesson," Turtle mumbled. He sat up and she followed, running her hand across his bare chest. "Be careful."

"When am I not careful?"

"You weren't careful when you fought Hound. Don't let Rick's group be like those Wolves," Turtle replied. "I almost lost you that day-"

"Almost, but didn't." 

"A close call is a close call. You don't have nine lives, Negan," Turtle said. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. She felt his fingers tangle into her head, steadying her as he let out a breath, closing his eyes. "Don't die on me out there."

"Okay, okay. I'll be fucking careful."

"Thank you," Turtle sighed. "I love you."

Negan nodded. He gently touched her chin and gave her a chaste kiss that lasted for a while.

When he got up, Turtle leaned back onto the sheets, tugging the blanket up to her chin and watching her…boyfriend? Lover? Part of her wanted Negan to have a title and part of her didn't. She certainly wasn't a wife. In fact, he hadn't slept with any of his wives since Turtle had uttered those faithful words.

"Have a nice day, dear," Turtle chided. Negan flipped her off and Turtle laughed.  
~ ~ ~

Half of Sanctuary must have been vacant - Negan had taken so many men with him. Dwight and his crew were already gone. Bud and his group were dead and Paula…Turtle didn't want to think about Paula. Her death couldn't have been pretty, for she'd most likely been killed by Carol and Maggie.

Sanctuary was either dead or out and about. Terrance was somewhat in charge, though Negan had specifically stated, to Turtle, that if shit were to hit the fan, she'd have to take command.

Hell no.

If shit hit the fan, they were all screwed. Turtle was a bomb maker, not a leader. A wanderer. An engineer. A follower.

She walked around Sanctuary, backpack slung over her shoulder. She'd been instructed not to leave for the treehouse until Negan returned and accompanied her - he'd made the place a second home. A private place for both of them. Their downtime consisted of talking, drinking, card games and sex. Sometimes all four. She had him wrapped around her fingers and he'd done the same with her. Now all she had to do was coax the "L" word from his between his lips.

Miranda wouldn't like that. Not at all. She was heading towards Turtle now, having removed herself from the parlor. She was dressed modestly, but no amount of baggy clothing could conceal her slender frame and model legs.

Turtle looked up at her, big eyes narrowed as she stood on the catwalk overlooking the factory hangar. The lack of hustle and bustle was unnerving - this operation had taken almost every able-bodied person, including Eli. Eli was the tall, brawny, scary glue that typically held the place together when Negan and Dwight were absent.

And now, he, too, was gone. There was no discipline, and no savior.

"Hi," Miranda began, clearing her throat. "Turtle…I want to apologize to you. For the slap and for all the shit I said."

Turtle didn't reply.

"I get jealous easily. Just seeing the way Negan looks at you and how he talks to you…he never did that with Sherry or Amber or any of us. You make him laugh and smile and not in a perverted, gross way. He loves you."

"He won't say it," Turtle replied.

"That's because he's stubborn. Trust me, I've known him for a while. You know, he never kissed any of us. I think you're his first since the end of the world."

Turtle sighed and nodded. "I understand. I don't hold grudges - you can't, really. We're on the same side, here."

"Good. Again, I'm sorry," Miranda pursed her lips. "It's boring around here. Do you want to come up to the parlor with us, wait for Negan? Joan and Kiara haven't really gotten a chance to meet you yet - plus, we have extra food. Good food."

Turtle shrugged. "Sure."

The trek up to the parlor was short. Turtle followed Miranda, trying to distract herself from the way Miranda walked - hips swinging, steps soft. Turtle couldn't focus on her beauty now, but it was difficult, knowing that, for some reason, Negan had chosen her over Miranda. He could do better, Turtle knew.

Miranda let Turtle enter first, shutting the door and switching on the lights. Kiara and Joan were on the couch, speaking softly - they raised their eyebrows when Turtle entered, more out of curiosity than anything else.

They went back to talking. Miranda pulled up a chair and gestured for Turtle to sit - which she did.

"Let's see…we have sodas in the refrigerator," Miranda gestured to the small kitchen area on her left. Immediately Kiara stood, strutting over and fetching a few items. "Candy and whatever. Negan brings it to us, sometimes. For being good."

Like dogs, Turtle thought. She smirked and leaned back, crossing her arms.

"Why does Negan have wives?"

Miranda sat up straight, crossing her legs. "Why fuck only one woman when you could have, say, five? It's his logic, not mine."

"It's flawed."

"I know. I took up the offer because I had nothing else to do. I'm not a fighter, I'm not a medic. I'd die if I took one step outside this compound."

"You ever killed someone before?"

Miranda eyes glistened. She shifted her position, lips twitching upward.

"During the beginning, my son was bit. I put him down. That's the only time I've taken a life - what about you?"

"The people in the metro, Hilltop people, Hound and his Wolves…" Turtle wrinkled her nose. "That's about it. I helped Negan kill, when he rescued me."

"Do you feel bad about it?"

"They all deserved it."

Miranda nodded. "Do you think you deserve to die?"

Turtle stiffened. She heard footsteps stop behind her - Kiara and Joan, most likely.

Amber and Sherry were nowhere to be seen.

Something was wrong. This was wrong - she'd gotten far to casual. She'd underestimated Miranda. She didn't have the guts.

Right?

Turtle looked behind her. Joan had a table lamp in her hand, its top removed. Turtle couldn't react in time, and Joan's swing was precise and hard.

Right against Turtle's skull. She toppled from her chair, her ears ringing. Her legs wouldn't work right and she felt hot, sticky blood begin to trickle down her face, into her eyes and mouth. She heard Miranda speaking briskly to Joan and Kiara - the two girls hauled Turtle to her feet.

Turtle's legs wouldn't work right. Her tongue felt numb, huge in her mouth as she struggled to speak.

"String her up," Miranda ordered. "I'm about to make my second kill."

Turtle slipped into nothingness.


	19. Judgement Day

_"Which one of you pricks is the leader?"_

Someone was slapping Turtle awake. A strong hand, pinching her cheeks before giving her a few hard hits.

She forced her eyes open - what a mistake that way. Dried blood was crusted around her left eye and stuck to her chin. Her head pounded, like a thousand mallets hammering into her skull. She was vaguely aware of the breeze against her chest and legs and stomach.

It took her a moment to realize that she was clad in only her undergarments. Miranda or someone must have removed them. She was bare to the world, all of a sudden, with her feet taped together and her arms bound behind her back. She was sitting up against the parlor wall, and she could faintly make out three figures roaming around the room.

Her eyes were still trying to focus through the agony. She saw Miranda notice her and walk over, still sporting that annoying, hip-swaying stride.

"You awake, now? Paying attention?"

"Kind of difficult with this headache," Turtle replied, keeping her tone neutral. She couldn't let Miranda sense her fear. She had to have some control over the scenario, no matter how small.

"You'll get over it. A headache is the least painful thing that's gonna happen to you today," Miranda replied. Off to the side, Kiara and Joan seemed to be preparing something. "I decided to go easy on you, though. Just the iron, then I slit your throat. That merciful. There are plenty of other ways for you to die that I thought up earlier."

"If you do this, Negan will kill you."

"Nobody has to know. We're throwing your body to the walkers right after - we'll tell him that you ran. That you couldn't stand the fact that he didn't - couldn't - say the "L" word.

Turtle tugged feebly at her bindings. They didn't budge, and she cursed. The fear in her voice was back, now. But she wasn't going to beg - not to Miranda. Not to someone like her.

"What, you think he'll come running back into your arms-"

"He always does. After every flings, he comes back. You aren't even the longest fling he's had, but he's smitten with you. When I said earlier that he loved you, I meant it. He loves the idea of you. The excitement you bring him, the mystery. The end of the world drained every last bit of love out of him. Now, everyone is a tool."

"Bullshit."

"I want to maintain my status. I can't afford to lose this," Miranda stressed. "I'm doing this for my own survival. I'm killing someone who deserves it."

Turtle looked up at her. She was the ring leader - Kiara and Joan were the followers. Miranda grasped Turtle, halting her up and tossing her towards the door.

"We're doing this in the courtyard. I've already paid off the guard - I'll be keeping him company after you're gone. Negan will need time to grieve, after all."

"Fuck you," Turtle groaned. They walked her down the hallway as if she were a prisoner, Miranda keeping a firm grip on her collar while Kiara and Joan trailed behind.

All three women brandished knives. Knives used for gutting and slicing. Killing knives.

The courtyard was empty. Turtle could see the burn marks from where the Wolves had attacked the compound with their molotov's. Hound's blood still stained the concrete - his head was now stuck upon a pike just outside the fence, reanimated and biting.

_"Give me your shit or I will kill you. Today was fucking career day. We invested a lot and you know who I am and what I can do. You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me, That's your fucking job. Now I know that is a mighty big, nasty-ass pill to swallow, but swallow it you most certainly will."_

The place was eerily quiet. Headlights swept across Turtle, but did not stop. The girls let her fall to the ground, surveying her nudity. Miranda was sizing her up, curious eyes eyes deciding what she wanted to do next.

"Cut off her hair. Negan doesn't like short hair," Miranda instructed.

Hands grasped at her. Insistent hands, abusive hands - Kiara wrestled with her while Joan took hold of her brown locks and began sawing them off, piece by piece. Chunks of brown scattered across the concrete and Miranda watched as Turtle shrieked.

Their hands. It was them, those men -

"Help me, Help-"

It was her sisters voice. Turtle was face down on the floor, staring across the way as those men undressed her younger sister, hands pawing at her naked flesh.

"Help me!"

Turtle's mouth closed around Joan's arm. The woman shouted and pulled away, tearing the flesh from her arm. Her slap was hard and vicious. Turtle felt the wound on her head open up, spewing hot, fresh blood back down her face.

Her hair was in shambles. Miranda's foot lashed out to kick Turtle in the ribs, hard. Then again. Joan and Kiara joined, delivering kicks and punches that shattered bone and sent waves of agony coursing through Turtle's entire body.

Those men were beating her. Those devils.

Miranda was a devil. An avenging demon from hell.

It was judgement day.

"Kiara, go grab the iron," Miranda instructed. "And hurry. Negan could return any minute, now."

Kiara hastily disappeared back into the compound. Joan knelt down next to Turtle's mangled body, cutting off the last chunk of free flowing hair. She gave Turtle a final kick, and Turtle's ribs finally gave in and snapped like twigs.

She gasped, bum arm wrapping around her stomach. Her hair lay scattered next to her, bruises already beginning to form on her face and neck and chest.

"So, like I said. Iron, then neck," Miranda watched Kiara reappear, toting the infamous iron - the iron that had so brutally ripped apart Dwight's face - in her left hand. It was hot and smoking, glowing orange.

Turtle began to struggle. Her shoulders scraped against the concrete and she began to mewl and scream and cry. Several saviors immediately rushed from within the compound, drawn by the commotion - they stopped when Joan reached into her pants and pulled out a handgun.

"Don't move," Miranda instructed. She knelt next to Turtle, gripping her face and squeezing, as if Turtle were a child. "We'll cut out your tongue too. How about that - iron, throat slit, tongue cut. Throw you to the walkers."

"Look at all these people. You think they won't snitch?" Turtle gasped, her breathing ragged. Just holding her head up was a struggle. "So many flaws in your plan, Miranda-"

_"I don't want to kill you people, I want to make that clear from the get go. I want your ass to work for me. You can't fucking do that shit if you're dead, now can you? But you killed my people, a whole goddamn lot of them, more than I'm comfortable with. For that you have got to fucking pay."_

"Shut up!" Miranda snarled. Her slap stung, numbing Turtle's cheek. "I can deal with Negan when he get's back. He'll get over it - he'll get over you. He always does. His last bitch died on a supply run - he was all touchy feely with her, too. It took about a week before he was back to fucking us."

"Huh," Turtle snorted. She spat a glob of blood onto the floor. "Why are you trying to convince me now? If you're going to kill me, kill me. Quit bitching."

"What, you eager to die?"

"There's nothing you can take from me, nothing at all. I've lost everything, Miranda. I'm living because I have too, because I have a job to complete. Not because this world is peachy and fun."

"Neither am I."

"Is that why you're doing this? You want Negan to kill you-"

Miranda dropped Turtle onto the floor. She gestured for the iron, taking it, while Joan and Kiara struggled to hold Turtle down. She felt her limbs slacken as Joan gripped her hair, jerking her head back so that she was looking up at the sky and up at Miranda. The red hot iron was hovering over her, ready to be brought down.

Joan's head exploded, suddenly. The bullet entered through the back of her head, into her skull, exiting between her eyes. Fresh blood splattered against Turtle, and Joan's grip slackened as she toppled.

Kiara turned. Turtle heard the next gunshot, and Kiara staggered, before another shot sent her sprawling.

_"So now, I am going to beat the holy fuckity-fuck out of one of you. This…this is Lucille, and she is fucking awesome. All this, all this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor."_

Turtle looked behind her. Sherry stood, gun raised, and Amber approached behind her. Sherry's face was a distorted mask of agony, rage, and sadness. She surveyed Kiara and Joan's corpses before aiming the gun at Miranda.

"Wait," Turtle raised a hand. Sherry didn't reply, but didn't fire a shot. She just kept a steady aim as Turtle struggled to stand, limping over to where Miranda was holding the iron like a shield.

"Put it down, Miranda. We're done here. If you put it down, I won't tell Negan what happened. He'll let you live - maybe not as a wife, but he'll let you stay here and live here. You said it yourself, you wouldn't last a day outside this compound."

Miranda dropped the iron. It clanged against the concrete. Her eyes were on Joan and Kiara's corpses, now, slowly widening at the sight of death.

"Miranda," Turtle said slowly. She approached, gently reaching out to touch the woman's shoulder. She was shaking, dark hair framing her face. Her long locks were plastered to her cheeks and forehead with sweat, and her eyes were dull, red-rimmed and delirious.

Turtle reached down and picked her knife up from the ground. A part of her felt as if she were in a trance, going through the motions - Miranda didn't reach as Turtle jammed the knife into her throat.

"I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't wa-"

Miranda's legs gave out. She fell to her knees, taking Turtle with her, all the while gushing blood like a garden hose. It was in Turtle's eyes and in her mouth, on her face and neck and chest, warm and stick and salty. She swept the knife in an arc, cutting past Miranda's jugular and removing the weapon, letting the older woman fall and bleed out on the concrete.

Sanctuary fell silent. Turtle was heaving. Her pale skin was now crimson - her short hair now a dirty red color. She got to her feet and began to walk, past Sherry, past Amber and the bodies, and toward's the gate.

"Turtle!"

"Come back, Turtle!"

One of the guards shouted. "It's Negan! He's back."

Turtle stopped. Headlights swept across Sanctuary. The gates slowly swung open and Negan entered first.

Lucille was bloody. Negan was bloody.

And, once again, so was Turtle.

"Tessa?" Negan said softly. Dwight pushed past him, face an emotionless mask. The sight of three dead bodies, bodies that he recognized, caused him to stop. Negan hurried over, ignoring his men and ignoring the blood on his hands and on Lucille. He reached Turtle, only slowing when he saw the haunted look in her eyes. It must have been bad - it had to have been bad. Negan always knew what to say, and right now, he'd lost his ability to talk.

_"Anybody moves, anybody says shit cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father, and then we'll start. You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry, hell, you're are all going to be doing that."_

"I killed them," Turtle said. "I felt bad. She was a good girl I…killed. I didn't want to."

"Who did you kill, Tessa?"

"She was a good girl. She was good she was…she was angry with me and with the world."

Negan removed his gloves, setting Lucille on the ground. He held Turtle's face between his hands, wiping away a fleck of blood from underneath her eye.

"Miranda tried to kill me."

Negan nodded. He gnawed on his lower lip, still keeping a firm grip on Turtle.

"So you killed her," Negan said. Turtle began to sob. His voice became immediately softer. "Fuck…"

_"Taking it like a champ!"_

Sobs racketed Turtle's body. She didn't think she'd ever cry in front of Negan, but here she was. Moaning, "I love you," into his jacket while he kissed the top of her head.

"I love you."

Turtle's crying slowed. She looked up at him, eyes teary. He hadn't said it, had he? No. That couldn't it have been him - it must have been her imagining…

Negan spoke again. "Hey, I love you, alright? I fucking love you."

"Oh, no…"

Negan said it again. He kissed Turtle's nose, then her mouth. "I love you."

Turtle sobbed those words back, and all the while Lucille lay on the ground, a bloody reminder of judgement.


	20. Yellow Brick Road

The "L" word was a foreign concept to Turtle. She'd uttered it to Negan first, only partially understanding the gravity of the word and what it meant. Her heart had been empty for such a long time, and unknown to her, she'd been searching for something to fill it.

Was that person Negan? It couldn't just be him. He wasn't powerful enough for that.

Maybe it was the sense of community. With Dwight, Eli, Sherry and Amber. Carson, Robert…Paula. Bud. Turtle had lost her family, but she'd gained something else. Something imperfectly perfect.

Negan was imperfect. He was wiping Lucille down, having removed the barbed wire from her frame. They sat inside the parlor, Turtle taking up the couch with her legs stretched out and Negan sitting in a wooden chair, Lucille in his lap.

"Don't tell me who you killed," Turtle murmured. "I don't want to know. I know you had to do it but…I can't have that on my mind right now."

Turtle ran fingers through her hair. She'd cut it, evened it out. It was wispy past her ears, curling around her forehead. Negan hadn't commented on her new look. He didn't seem to mind

_"Negan hates short hair."_

Liar.

Sherry and Amber were no longer wives. Sherry was recluse. She and Dwight had no plan to get back together - at least, not in the near future. It would take a while to come back from what had happened.

"When are we going to Alexandria?"

"In three days," Negan answered. "That's how long I gave them to get their shit together and ready for us. You coming with?"

"Maybe."

"You're acting different, baby," Negan stood, letting the polished Lucille rest against the wall. Turtle moved her legs, allowing him to recline with her - she allowed him to rest his head against her chest while her fingers immediately began playing with his hair. Something to distract herself from the ache in her ribs. Her physical wounds would heal, slowly, but surely.

"I'm fine."

"No, you aren't. Did Dwight say shit again? I'll fucking beat his ass if he did," Negan sad firmly.

"That's not it."

"Tessa," Negan sighed and sat up, turning to face Turtle fully. "What the fuck is going on? Talk to me."

"I can't do this anymore."

"What?"

"The fighting. The death. I keep seeing it all over again. My mom, my dad, my sister. Everything reminds me of them," Turtle stifled a sudden sob. "I can't get them out of my head or out of my dreams at night. I can't live with it-"

"You sure as fuck can, and you sure as fuck will," Negan leaned forward, grasping Turtle's hand. "You won't be able to forget shit like that, but you will be able to accept that it happened. What those men did to you? What Miranda did to you? I'll make sure, on my damn life, that it won't happen again. You have to trust me, and you have to trust Dwight, and Carson, and Eli. All of us."

Turtle nodded. She rubbed her tired eyes, feeling Negan softly press his lips against her chin, then her mouth. She leaned into the kiss, eager - her hands found themselves tugging at his jacket.

It had been so long, it felt.

"C'mon-"

"No," Turtle said softly. "I want to fuck you right here. Right where we are."

"Shit, babe," Negan hissed. Turtle's mouth latched onto his neck. "Okay. Okay, we'll stay right here."

"Good," Turtle purred. Her hand slipped past the waistband of his pants. She grasped him, running her thumb over his leaking slit. He squirmed beneath her and she let out a breath, eyelids drooping. "You're gonna listen to me, okay-"

"Shit-"

"Shut up," Turtle barked. "Lay down. Now."

Negan hesitated. Turtle gave him a hard shove, her bum arm pressed against his neck. She pinned him down, hissing through grit teeth.

"You do what I say, or get nothing. You want this, yes?"

"Fuck, yes," Negan growled. His hands sought for Turtle's breasts, but she sat up, straddling his waist and making sure her chest was out of his reach. She found her hips slowly grinding against his own, mouth open in a sneer as she watched her lover squirm beneath her, desperate for skin-on-skin contact.

Turtle smirked. She leaned forward, forcing him out of his jacket, then his shirt. Her mouth found his collarbone, then his chest. She felt him twitch as she grasped him once more, already intending to use her mouth on him - she wanted to hear him.

"You need to be quiet, alright? Don't say a word. Nothing."

"Tessa-"

"Follow the rules!" Turtle snapped.

Negan nodded, biting his lip when Turtle's warm mouth encircled him, her bum arm braced against his thigh. Negan sighed, resting his head against the couch cushion. He was struggling to keep from making sounds, Turtle's mouth, moving expertly over him - Turtle could feel him twitching, struggling as the pleasure began to build up. She smiled around him, pulling back and letting her tongue slide across his tip.

"Do not come until I tell you, understand?"

Negan nodded, frowning, holding back. Turtle straddled him once more, fingers brushing across his bare chest.

"You know how much I love you, right? You know why I'm doing this?"

"Yeah, yeah. I know," Negan grunted, grinning. "Don't get me wrong, I fucking like it-"

"Did Miranda ever touch you like this?"

"I never let her," Negan purred. He tried to sit up, but Turtle forced him down. She allowed him to peel off her shirt and pants, his hands hasty and uncoordinated as he rushed to get a glimpse of her naked flesh. He did, his eyes taking it all in. Every scar, every imperfection. He seemed mesmerized, transfixed.

"I want you. I'll always want you," Turtle murmured. "Only you."

"Yes," Negan breathed. "Yes. Yes. I fucking…you're so fucking beautiful," Turtle's grip on him slackened, and he sat up, wrapping his arms around her nude frame. His mouth was on her shoulder, her breasts and her chest. His hands were gripping her ass while she helped him squirm out of his jeans. He didn't force her onto the cushion, but he entered her in one swift stroke.

"God," Negan grunted. "Fuck…you feel fucking fantastic."

Turtle giggled, her mouth open. She was laughing, a genuine laugh as she gripped Negan's shoulders. He had one hand in her short hair, gripping gently at her brown locks. It was only at Turtle's command that he released her, resting his head back against the cushions and allowing her to take control, bucking her hips against his and laughing. Her release came and she threw back her head, sighing and letting the last laugh slip from within her.

When Turtle leaned down to nip at his lower lip, he groaned, pulling out of her. With a final snarl he toppled over the edge, grunting, spilling onto his stomach. He chuckled when Turtle kissed him, holding her by the neck and furiously returning the affection.

"I fucking can't believe this," Negan sighed. "God, what the fuck did you do to me?"

"I didn't do anything. This was all you-"

"Fuck. I fucking love you-"

"Never gets old," Turtle sighed. "Can you say it…"

"Don't get greedy, now," Negan murmured.

"Say it again," Turtle said, more forceful. She rested her forehead against Negan's, her breathing beginning to even out as she caught her breath.

"I love you."

"Yes. Me too," Turtle sat up, staring down at him. "And since I love you, I'll clean you up. How about that?"

"Shower," Negan grunted. "Both of us."  
~ ~ ~

"I'm going with you," Turtle said. She watched Negan, Eli and Davis as they began loading the truck. "I'm not staying behind again."

"I need you in charge-"

"Dwight is more than capable," Turtle said. "I don't like him, I'm not friends with him, but he can get the job done. Plus, Sherry and Amber are looking out for me. We're cool, now."

"How do you think Rick's group will react?" Negan said. "Half of them already fucking know who you are. You helped Dwight pop off their doctor - what was it that black chick with the sword said? She'd kill you?"

"I've faced worse," Turtle said coldly. "Plus, what if they have supplies that I need? You don't know shit about bombs, Negan."

Negan stopped. Davis and Eli kept packing, squinting in the early morning sun. Usually Paula would be the one to go - Paula or Bud or Donnie. Someone as equally tough and hard as Negan.

"It's not fucking safe."

"Nothing's safe anymore. Nowhere is safe. This place, not safe. We deal with what's thrown our way," Turtle said, her gaze steely. "I'm going with you. Sorry, not sorry. I'm not staying here to babysit."

Negan stared, hard. There was no way he'd try and use intimidation. It wouldn't work, and he knew it. Negotiation wasn't an option.

"Listen to your woman, Negan," Turtle said slyly. "She knows best."

Negan rolled his eyes, hoisting Lucille over his shoulder. "Fine, fine. Fucking fine. Jesus. You're an adult, okay," he opened the truck door, gesturing for Turtle to enter. "Right this way, darling."

Turtle smiled, leaning up and kissing his cheek. Davis smirked and Negan raised his middle finger, before entering the truck. Davis and Eli were in the back while the caravan behind them started their engines.

"I'm not excited about this," Turtle muttered.

"You chose to come. You wanna hop out now, change your underwear?"

"Oh, shut up."

Negan laughed. It was genuine. "Oh, c'mon. You love me."

Turtle thought for a moment as the car lurched forward, headed toward's Alexandria.

"Yeah. Yeah, I suppose I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'll be taking a short hiatus - think of this as the end of part one. New chapters should be up in a week or so. Thank you for sticking with me!


	21. Let's Kill Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for me a hiatus is four days XD just enough time for me to plan out the remaining half of this story. Enjoy!

Rick was not excited to see them. Not a soul in Alexandria was excited to see them, and the amount of tension was palpable even as Eli pulled their trucks past Alexandria's gates. Turtle could only sit and marvel at the beautiful houses and air of peace in the small community. Unlike Sanctuary, she could see large expanses of grass, a pond, trees and bushes. It wasn't the concrete jungle she'd come to call home.

Turtle got her first close-up of Rick Grimes. He didn't look as confident as he had at the Satellite Outpost - the saviors were on his turf, now. They held the power and control over the situation. He was sulking, glowering. His distaste of Negan was obvious in his posture and the permanent scowl on his face.

All in all, he looked tired. Weak. Something had been taken out of him and from him, and Turtle couldn't imagine who it could have been. The asian boy, Glenn? Michonne? Maggie and Carol, Daryl…

Turtle hopped from the car, first. She met Rick's eye and nodded, focusing on the ground. Her eyes warily scanned the area - she saw a young boy sitting on the porch of a large, white house. A bandage covered one eye and he was holding a cooing toddler.

"Afternoon, Prick," Negan followed behind Turtle. Then Eli, Davis, and half a dozen other men. "Whatdya got for us today?"

"Everything," Rick replied solemnly. "Everything you requested."

"Good shit. Good shit," Negan smiled. He noticed Rick's eyes lingering over Turtle, his gaze most focused on her bum arm. The sleeve of her jacket was tied around it, making it very, very obvious that she possessed only one upper limb.

Negan caught him staring. While Eli and Davis began conversing with the Alexandrian's, roughing them up in preparation for the inevitable confiscation of their goods, Negan was eying Rick with curiosity.

"I can't tell if you wanna fuck her or kill her."

"I don't know her," Rick replied coldly. "Is this the girl Daryl told me about?"

"You're damn right. Introduce yourself," Negan nudged Turtle with his elbow. She hissed, agitated that he'd put her on the spot.

"Turtle. I'm, um, Turtle. I'm Negan's…um…bomb-maker."

"And?" Negan pressed. When Turtle didn't reply, he rolled his eyes and said, "She's mine. As in, we're fucking. In fact, I fucked her last night. So, I whether or not you wanted to kill her or fuck her, I'd still be pissed the fuck off if you did either one. Understand?"

Rick gave a small nod. Negan tapped Lucille against his knee, saying, "Good. Glad we're on the same fucking page. Now show me what shit you have so I can get the fuck out of here and ram my twelve-inch dick into this good pussy standing next to me."

"Negan!" Turtle squealed. He laughed and Rick turned an embarrassing shade of red, coughing and gesturing for Negan to follow.

"Stand on lookout for me," Negan instructed. "And if you see anything you need, take it. This place is practically a fucking flea market, right Rick?"

Rick didn't say a word.

"Goddamn stoic little shit," Negan grumbled, matching Rick's pace and leaving Turtle next to the truck.

"You shouldn't be here."

Turtle almost leaped out of her skin. Jesus was standing behind her, hand pressed against the door of the truck. He'd trimmed his beard and hair, though only an inch or so.

"Well, I'm here," Turtle remarked. "And I'm going to be here for a while. And at Hilltop. Everywhere, really. How's Gregory doing?"

"He blames you for Ben's death. Ben's father wants to kill you - said he'd do it himself, even if he dies in the process."

"Let him."

"Gregory won't. He says that if one of us kills you, Negan will blame him and, well…another reason for Negan to slaughter us all."

"Gregory hasn't got the guts. I knew it from the moment we met-"

"Maggie and Glenn told me about you. About how you tried to play both sides - cozy up to them, make yourself feel better about whatever it was Negan was going to do."

And what did he do?"

"Killed Abraham. Redhead, with the mustache. But you already knew that, right?"

Turtle sighed. Abraham's face was faint in her memory. It hadn't been Maggie or Glenn or Carol - for some reason, she felt relieved. Another death she hadn't indirectly caused.

"Your people - Rick's people - killed my friends. It's a cycle. Get used to it. It's no different than anything else in this world," Turtle grumbled.

"But you don't want to kill."

"I don't enjoy it. Negan enjoys it, but I don't. I want to avoid it, when able. Part of me wants Negan to do the same."

"You think you can tame him?"

"He's not a housecat. I can't change who he is. I don't want to change who he is. But I can influence the decisions he makes, guide him. I'm like his consort or whatever, after all."

"So you two are together?"

"Yeah. Old news, dude," Turtle huffed, toying with the holster of her handgun.

"Are you happy with him?"

"Yeah," Turtle replied. "Yeah, I am. And he's happy with me."

Jesus huffed. "Yeah. Take care of yourself, okay? You aren't on anyone's good graces here."

"Not even yours?"

"What can I say? We have different agendas, you and I. I don't want to kill you, but I will, if it comes to that. I know you didn't intend to bring such pain and suffering upon Hilltop," Jesus replied softly. "What's done is done. I'll see you around."

Jesus was gone. He didn't give Turtle time to reply before he turned on his heel, clutching his trench coat and walking towards Alexandria's chapel.

Pain tugged at Turtle's heart. She tried to shove it away, tried to bury it. She found herself looking back towards the white house.

The one-eyed boy was looking at her, mouth set in a grim line. The baby in his arms was fixated with the hat on his head, small, chubby fingers gripping at its rim. She was beautiful, clad in a little white dress, old-fashioned.

Turtle found herself walking towards the one-eyed boy. He shifted, and Turtle noticed the handgun strapped at his hip. He'd moved in a way that had intentionally revealed the weapon - a subtle threat, but an effective one.

"What's your name?"

"Carl."

"Your Rick's son? Negan told me Rick had a son," Turtle let out a breath, stopping a few feet away from the boy. "I'm Turtle, by the way."

Carl tapped his foot. He wasn't giving Turtle a friendly look. There was hostility in his strong gaze - he couldn't have been older than fifteen, and already, his face was hard and lined with permanent fatigue.

The baby in his arms cooed and reached for Turtle.

"Whose kid is that?"

"My sister," Carl said curtly. "Judith."

"She's beautiful."

"I know."

"Can I hold-"

"No!" Carl reeled back, disgust on his features. "No. You're with them."

It's us against them. You against us. Turtle's face fell and she nodded, stepping back and raising her hands in a placating gesture. Part of her wanted to go sit back in the truck, and another part of her wanted to meander around the town. She chose the better of the two, which, to her surprise, turned out to be the latter.

She left Carl to hold Judith. She wasn't afraid of the hostile looks thrown her way as she walked through Alexandria, intending to find Negan so that the two of them could leave - Eli was already beginning to load up the truck with supplies.

She heard yelling from within an open garage. A woman's voice, Rick's voice, and Negan's hard tone riddled with various curses.

Turtle approached warily. The garage was littered with supplies, and she could see Rick standing next to the woman - Michonne, Turtle recognized her to be. She had her sheathed sword strung over her shoulder, gloved hand clutching it's handle. Negan towered over them both, teeth bared.

"I want the fucking sword. Now. Turtle would like it," Negan barked, expression shifting to something akin to embarrassment when he saw Turtle enter the garage. Carefully, he said, "She's got one fucking arm. I don't think she'd enjoy shooting a fucking rifle-"

"I have a machete, Negan," Turtle interrupted. "Let her keep it. It's a nice thought, but I don't want it."

The door to the garage opened. Daryl entered, chest heaving. He had a knife drawn. The Asian boy, Glenn, was behind him.

"We heard yelling. What the hell is going on?" Daryl snapped. He pointed at Turtle, baring his teeth. "Why the hell is she here-"

"Because she fucking can be," Negan replied coldly. "This is our fucking town, you fucktard. You should have known that when Turtle blasted your fucking shoulder off."

"Negan," Turtle growled. "Be quiet. Daryl, I'm sorry I shot you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that guy Abraham is dead. But your people shot first - you started this whole thing. It could have been avoided, it really could have. This is what life looks like. You can't fight it."

"Bullshit," Daryl mumbled. "And you ain't sorry."

"We've got all the stuff we need. Let's go, Negan," Turtle closed her eyes and sighed. "Please. Please, let's go."

So they went.  
~ ~ ~  
Turtle rested her head against the pillow, her mouth pressed against Negan's bare shoulder as he drove into her, each movement driving her absolutely mad with pleasure. She had her bum arm hooked around his neck, her good arm clutching his back, nails scraping at the skin.

"Fuck, babygirl," Negan groaned against her ear, nipping at its edge. "You're too quiet for me today. It's been too fucking long-"

Turtle gripped the back of his neck, legs sliding around his waist and holding him closer. She gave him a long, tantalizing kiss before pulling away and sighing as his mouth found the sensitive spot on her neck. 

"I was just thinking-"

"About how fucking good I feel inside you?" Negan rolled his hips and Turtle mewled as he pushed deeper into her, drawling out pinpricks of pleasure. Turtle raked her nails down his chest, fingers dipping to swipe across her clit. Negan's low voice very nearly sent her into oblivion. "That's it, babygirl - shit, you're close, aren't you? Are you touching yourself for me?"

She could only muster a groan of pleasure.

"You're such a good girl - shit," Negan's pace increased, his breathing heavy as he reveled in the way her face contorted with ecstasy. He braced his forearm next to her head, and the only sounds became the slap of skin on skin and Turtle's breathy whines and Negan's soft curses against her ear.

She came first, toppling over the edge with a loud cry. Negan followed, riding out his own release with a few grunts and curses, forehead resting against her shoulder. He kissed the damp skin of her collarbone before finding her mouth, teeth tugging at her upper lip.

Thirty minutes later, and the sensation was still prominent. They lay in the confines of the treehouse, mattress prepped with fresh blankets and pillows. Turtle, eyelids heavy with fatigue, lay naked against her lover, who was in an equal state of undress. She had her head on his chest, her eyes focusing on a sliver of space between two boards on the ceiling.

"You ever thought about us having a baby?"

"Shit. It's a little early for that - plus, me, as a father?" Negan snorted. "Playing catch with my son out in the yard or whatever, all that good shit - could you imagine me doing that?"

"Thing's aren't like they were before," Turtle nuzzled against the dark hair on his chest.

"Exactly. They're worse," Negan replied. "Way fucking worse. What made you want a baby all of a sudden? I mean, Rick's kid didn't turn out as peachy as he probably hoped he would."

"I never said I wanted a child. I was just asking if you'd ever thought about it," Turtle shrugged, sighing. Negan's fingers rubbed gentle patterns against her shoulder. "Plus, I mean, if it happens-"

"Which it's not."

"We're about out of condoms. And your pullout game is weak, Negan."

Negan didn't reply. When Turtle laughed at his silence, he was able to grasp her and roll, allowing her to lie atop him, arms around her waist.

"Love makes you do stupid shit," Negan said. "Don't do stupid shit, Tessa."

"I'm known for doing stupid shit. Improv saved my life," Turtle replied. When he grinned she kissed him, making sure it was long and tender and loving. He chuckled against her mouth, and she kissed him again, tongue swiping against his. When she pulled away she found herself looking into his dark eyes, a silence falling over them both for a few moments.

Negan said, "You are mine, and I love you - more than I love myself, to be completely fucking honest. And I consider myself pretty fucking awesome, just so you know."

"I'll never get tired of that," Turtle murmured. "And I love you too. Don't ever forget. We can talk about babies if it happens."


	22. Lady Macbeth

Turtle awoke to Negan gently kissing her throat. She'd rolled over sometime during the night, wrapping the blankets around her nude form. Her body was in a warm bliss, muscles relaxed, eyes shut. The soreness between her legs had ebbed away into nothing.

"Wake up, babygirl," Negan murmured, leaning over and pressing a light kiss against Turtle's shoulder. Turtle's eyes fluttered open and she rolled over, staring at his bare chest as he propped himself up next to her, a look of pride crossing his features, along with…

Nervousness? Negan rarely became nervous. It wasn't a good look on him.

"I found you something, outside," Negan coughed. "Yeah, uh…took me, like, two fucking hours to find. But I found it."

It was a red scarf. Nearly identical to the one he wore around his neck.

"It's getting colder and you know, you need shit like this. I didn't mean for it to match mine but when I saw it…fuck. You look good in scarves," Negan scratched the back of his neck, gritting his teeth. His cheeks blazed red and he fumbled for the next item, pulling it from underneath his discarded shirt, jacket, and pants.

"And I remembered one night you said that your favorite fruit was peaches. I found a can when we were fucking around in Alexandria," Negan shrugged. "I got three for you. Not enough, but, you know…they only have so much shit to give."

"No, no," Turtle gawked, marveling at both gifts. "This is perfect - they're both perfect. You didn't have to do this for me."

"I mean, why the fuck wouldn't I? Isn't that what couples do - give each other shitty gifts every once and a while?" Negan chuckled, shaking his head. "I mean, fuck, anything to get you to smile."

"I don't like my smile."

"And I want my dick to be bigger, but guess what, it's staying the same size. Can't change shit about it. Can't change the fact that you've gotta live with what you got," Negan replied. "It's harder to do now than it ever was before."

"True. And to be honest, if your dick was any bigger, you'd smother me."

Negan laughed, giving Turtle a playful shove. She stood, letting the blanket fall past her hips, walking naked over to the small corner table a grasping the half empty bottle of hard whiskey from its surface. When she turned around, Negan was watching her with lusty fascination, lying propped up on his elbows, chest heaving.

"We need vacations like this more often," Turtle muttered. "Like, leave Dwight in charge for a week or whatever. Go down by the river, find a cabin. And just stay and sleep and eat and fuck."

"We're doing that now," Negan drawled, closing his eyes. "Bring that fine ass of yours over here, pronto."

Turtle huffed, waltzing over slowly, still caught in her thoughts. "But we've got to go back today. Home, then Alexandria? Back on the grind."

"You know what this world is like," Negan replied. "If you don't work, you die. Vacations are just an excuse to die a fuck of a lot quicker."

"You think we're dying up here?"

"No."

Turtle chuckled. She watched as Negan's eyes slide down her shoulders, to her breasts and stomach, drinking her all in. He sat up, allowing Turtle to slump into his lap, head resting against his chest. Her fingers began stroking patterns against her skin as she placed the bottle next to him.

"We're not dying. Neither of us are," Turtle pressed her forehead against his chest, breathing in. "Thank you for my gifts."

"No problem. I'm glad you like them," Negan chewed on his bottom lip, eyes flickering towards the treehouse hatch. "Are you staying here today while I go to Alexandria?"

"Yeah. I wanna get some work done - Daryl's crossbow has me thinking about something."

Turtle slid from Negan's lap, gathering her clothes and taking a torturously long time to dress - she could already seem him adjusting himself, and she smiled.

"Stop it," Negan grunted. Turtle had her panties alway up her thigh, her shirt thrown carelessly across her torso. "Get the fuck over here so I can fuck you again."

"You are insatiable."

"Insatiable," Negan groaned, throwing her onto the mattress, his face immediately burying itself between her legs, tossing her panties to the side. "That's a big fucking word."

"I know my vocabulary," Turtle sighed. "And right now you feel quite…fuck I can't think of a word. Keep doing that…"

Negan smirked.

"Your wish is my command, milady."  
~ ~ ~

Negan kissed her goodbye. Turtle felt like a newlywed, despite the lack of a ring or a ceremony or a proposal. His touch lingered on her skin, as well as his words.

"Don't fucking blow shit up or anything, okay? Okay. Come back as soon as you finish - I love you."

Turtle was left to her own devices, now. A yellow walkie talkie sat on her makeshift mattress bed, for emergencies. Negan would be on the other end, should she need to use it. She started off working, prepping her supplies before manufacturing what she could, organizing each individual piece and preparing it for delivery. Already, her arms were beginning to tire - both her stump and her good arm felt as if they were filled with lead.

Goddammit, Negan. His roughness was delaying her work, and he wasn't here for Turtle to berate. She rolled her eyes, eyeing her mattress. It looked softer than before, blankets tossed around, pillows still carrying a slight indent from Negan's head. She reached up to touch the scarf wrapped around her neck - the cans of peaches lay, already devoured, next to the bed.

Before she could move, she heard the snapping of twigs from down below. Immediately, Turtle's fingers curled around her handgun and she slowly got to her feet, creeping towards the window. She didn't hear the moaning of the undead but saw them, staggering along.

Silent.

Something was wrong. Upon closer inspection she could see their eyes, not cold and dead like usual, but alive. Vibrant.

Damaged.

At least six skin-clad, knife wielding humans were emerging from the forest on every side, their eyes clearly focused on the treehouse concealed beneath branches and brush. The larger reminded Turtle of Hound - broad shouldered, biceps huge. He obviously wasn't on any drugs, but he was tall - taller than Negan by nearly a foot.

"We know you're in their, Turtle."

They knew her name. They knew her - Turtle's blood ran cold and she skittered away from the window, grasping her makeshift C-4 bombs and practically tossing them around the room. Her legs were shaking as she heard the group drawing closer and closer. Instinctively, she hooked her walkie talkie to the back of her pants.

"Come out. No weapons. We'll spare your life."

"Bullshit," Turtle hissed, sliding the trigger into her pocket. Glancing at her bum arm and sighing when she realized that, in order to draw them close enough she'd have to leave her weapon, she slid her handgun across the wooden floor and made her way down the latter.

Up close, the sight and stench of these people was almost overwhelming. Turtle stepped a few yards out from underneath the tree, approaching the tallest of the group, making sure to appear confident.

"What brings your people to this neck of the woods?" Turtle drawled. The man's face remained motionless as he stared her down.

"Our leader demands that you speak with her."

"Cool. Tell em' that I'm busy."

Several of the gut-covered people drew their knives, and got closer - much to Turtle's initial delight. The closer they were - she was - to the ticking time bomb that was treehouse, the better.

"She won't take no for an answer," the man said.

"How the hell do you know who I am?" Turtle demanded. She grimaced when her opponent stepped closer, the smell of rotting flesh and sweat radiating off his body in waves.

"An anonymous tip. You're a wanted woman."

"From what police? My criminal record is all clean," Turtle replied. "What, you gonna interrogate me? 'Oh, what's your walker kill count? Human kill count?'"

"This will be much easier if you don't resist-"

"Resisting arrest! Yeah, that's my crime. I'm resisting arrest because I have important work to do, for a very important person."

The man tilted his head to the side, eyes slowly traveling to the treehouse. He said slowly, "What type of work?"

"Important work."

With a nod, the man gestured for three of his companions to break from the circle. They did, heading up the treehouse ladder. Their companions drew closer, on edge as they watched their skin-clad friends ascend into the interior of the treehouse.

Turtle looked into the man's eyes.

"I just played you like a fiddle."

Turtle's good hand reached into her pocket and squeezed the trigger. The world around her exploded in a burst of light and screaming. The shock of the blast threw her and the man off their feet - the blow felt as if she'd been hit by a bus, and she landed hard against a fallen log, debris falling around her. The whistling of loose fireworks and the pop of exploding canisters reverberated in her ears and she yelled, rolling over when she felt a sharp sting in his abdomen. The pain did not continue, only the shock and numbness as the area around her began to fill with dust and dirt.

She cursed and squeezed her eyes shut, light flashing all around her. She staggered to her feet, opening her eyes and searching for any attackers - all the skin-clad men were gone, save for the three which lay in a heap of rubble, skin blackened. They would reanimate soon, most likely stand up on whatever body parts they had left.

She winced when she felt a sharp pressure in her abdomen once more. She brushed her hand across her stomach, shaking her head and stumbling towards what remained of her home away from home. The rooftop was gone and three of the four walls were lying in heaps on the dirt. The tree itself was blackened and damaged.

Her ears detected the moans and groans of the undead as she searched for her walkie-talkie. She found the yellow device, which had been ripped from her pants, lying a few feet from where she'd landed. When she reached down to grab it, the pain returned, tenfold.

She finally placed her palm against the wound and felt something hard and jagged. When she pulled her hand away she saw that it was drenched in crimson, dripping down onto her wrist.

She was in shock. There was a foreign object in her, jabbed into her body, and her knees were getting weak and the undead were limping through the forest, drawn by the explosion.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

She staggered away from the remains of treehouse, eyes scanning for the road. She was unfocused, and she hesitantly tore the scarf Negan had given her, the red one, the pretty one, from her neck and desperately tied it around the wound to stop the bleeding. She didn't have the strength to pull the jagged, palm sized piece of steel from where it was embedded, just between her first two ribs beneath her left breast.

Her shaking hands gripped the walkie talkie and and her fingers struggled to press the button.

"Negan."

She shouldered past a roamer, breaking into a sprint, chest heaving as blood begin to trickle down her waist.

"Negan!"

A tiny voice was speaking, but she could barely hear it.

"Turtle? Turtle, what's wrong? The fuck is going on-"

"Help! Help me, help-"

"Help me please!"

Turtle collapsed.


	23. We Are Your Friends

"Negan!" Turtle rasped into the walkie. The undead were yards behind her, staggering, moaning and groaning. She hissed and crawled, bloody fingers clutching at the dirt.

She was going to die. They were going to eat her alive.

"Turtle! Shit - what's going on?" Negan's voice was laced with static. "Where are you?"

"I don't know!"

Turtle rolled to the side, tripping a roamer with a well aimed, sweeping kick. She scooted on her hunches, walkie in hand.

Her back hit something hard. It was the open door of a sedan, revealing the bloodstained interior. The driver of the vehicle was dead, head resting against the steering wheel. He'd clearly been shot from behind, and the exit wound had sprayed blood all over the dashboard.

Turtle didn't have time to check and see if the killing had been recent. She groaned, nearly passing out from the wave of pain that washed over her body. She slid into the passengers seat, gasping at the disgusting, dank, dead smell of the car. She managed to pull the vehicle door shut just as the undead, hands reaching, fell upon their prey and found it safe behind glass and steel.

Turtle let out a breath. She raised the walkie to her lips and said, "I'm alright."

"Fuck - what happened?"

"Some people," Turtle sighed, her tongue numb. Speaking was becoming very, very difficult. There was a coldness in the her stomach, and when she looked down, she saw that her makeshift bandage was darkening with blood. She closed her eyes, fingers shaking. "I'm hurt, Negan. There's a lot of blood."

"Shit - I'm coming. Just hang on, alright? Try and keep talking to me."

"Can't."

"Tessa," Negan's voice became hard. In the background, Turtle heard shouting and the squeal of an engine. "Keep your fucking eyes open, okay? Don't close them for anything. I'm on my way - I'm leaving Alexandria now."

"Negan," Turtle whined. She reached down and touched the scarf. Little droplets of blood clung to her hand. She sucked in a breath, the pounding of her heart loud in her ears. "I'm going to die, Negan."

She was dying. She could feel it in her arms and legs and feet. She was going slack. Closing her eyes felt like an amazing thing to do, but she couldn't.

"No," Negan growled. "You keep talking to me, okay! Keep - FUCK!"

Turtle heard gunshots and screams. Negan's curses were the loudest, and Turtle let the back of her hand rest against her forehead as she fought the urge to weep.

"Fucking fuck, it's Rick's fucking kid - holy shit! The fuck-" the feed cut out, and Turtle's eyes widened.

"Negan!"

"Hold on! We're coming - Dwight, grab the fucking kid, now!"

"Carl," Turtle rasped. "Is it Carl?"

"Yeah, that fucking kid. He snuck into the back of the fucking truck - blasted half our asses apart - Dwight, I said to fucking grab him, dipshit! Goddamn!" Negan's breathing was heavy, and he addressed Turtle once more. "Baby, where are you?"

"In a car," Turtle heaved. "It's silver, about…"

Turtle passed out for a few moments. She woke up gasping, the walkie nearly slipping from her hands.

"Tessa!"

"…the car. Yeah. It's silver. Half a mile from treehouse, east, I think. Near the river."

"We're coming. Keep talking to me."

"I'm going to die."

"No, you fucking aren't. Tessa, keep talking to me, baby. Don't fucking close up on me."

Turtle could hear the terror in his voice. It was raw, unadulterated. She could hear the crunch of tires against asphalt, and in the background, a child voice. He said,

"Please."

"I can't…"

"Please don't," Negan voice cracked, and for the first time, Turtle was sure she'd hear him cry. "Don't you fucking dare die on me. I can't do this shit again, Tessa. I can't - I can't fucking lose you."

"There's a lot of blood," Turtle gulped, glancing down. It had seeped past the scarf, onto her shirt. Down her stomach and to her thighs. It was numb, and her hands wouldn't stop shaking. Breathing was becoming more and more difficult. "There's a lot of blood, Negan - I can't. I love you."

"No! No, don't you fucking dare, Tessa!-"

"I love you."

"You are not fucking dying!" Negan's shouts were laced with sobs. "Please don't leave me - please don't," he was sobbing, now, screaming into the walkie. She heard Dwight's voice, insistent and terrified.

Turtle dropped the walkie.  
~ ~ ~  
She didn't know how long she lay there, dying. Her hand lay draped across the gaping wound in her torso, head resting against the cushioned passengers seat. Outside, the undead were clearing away, as if sensing that Turtle was close to becoming one of them.

They knew. Turtle knew. She was going to die out here, alone, without Negan. Without the Saviors, her family.

The door to the sedan opened. She turned her head, squinting.

It was her brother, just as she'd remembered him - smiling, dark hair falling messily across his forehead.

"Hey."

"Where's mom and dad? Where's Suzy?" Turtle mumbled. She reached out to him, bum arm extended. "Where are they?"

Her brother didn't reply. He shook his head, leaning in close, bright eyes wide.

Turtle asked, "Are they all in heaven? Is that why they aren't here? God made you one of his Angels, didn't he?"

"No."

Turtle, smiling, saw Negan behind him. He had Lucille in one hand, and it was bloody, drenched in the guts of the undead. His chest was heaving and his eyes were wild with fear, bloodshot and red rimmed.

This wasn't death, Turtle realized. There were no roamers after death. And this boy before her, with his charming smile and dark hair, was not her brother.

Reality came forward and hit her like a freight train.

"Grab her," Negan barked. Carl Grimes, his single eyes laced with terror, reached forward and tugged at Turtle's bum arm, pulling her limp body from the sedan. As soon as she hit the grass, Negan shoved him away and into Dwight's grip. Turtle felt Negan's warm, firm embrace as he settled Turtle's head into his lap. 

"Tessa," Negan breathed. His bloodied hands stroked her hair before reaching down to analyze her wound. He let out a breath, holding her close. "This isn't good, baby."

"That's what I told you," Turtle croaked. 

"Fuck. Fuck, I'm not a fucking doctor," Negan hissed, pressing his palm against the wound, stifling the flow of blood. His palms became slick with it, the liquid seeping through his fingers as he applied pressure. Turtle stifled a pained groan, gritting her teeth. Negan whispered, "I know, I know it hurts baby. We need to get this thing out-" 

"No, no, no," Turtle gasped. "No. Keep it in. Don't pull it out."

"Then what the fuck am I supposed to do?" Negan snarled, more to himself than to anyone else. 

"She's lost too much blood," Dwight said, holding a struggling Carl in a vice grip. "She'll die if she doesn't get help soon."

"Yeah, I see that," Negan growled. "Any other obvious fucking info you wanna update us on?"

"There's someone watching us - more than one person. A group."

Turtle let out a breath, not even attempting to crane her neck and get a look at the forest around her - she didn't have the energy. For now, the trees and Dwight's boots were upside down as she lay on her back, Negan's arms wrapped around her. He looked up, eyes narrowing as their possible attackers emerged from the forest on all sides. Dwight raised his rifle and Carl drew his knife, his single eye wide.

"What the hell…" Negan breathed.

"Carl?"

Turtle moved her head. The grey haired woman, Carol, Paula's killer, was walking through the underbrush towards them. Behind her, a trio of men began to spread out around her, while another trio came from the left…then the right. All Turtle could focus on was Carol - she was limping, but otherwise unscathed.

"Who the fuck are you?" Negan growled. He looked torn between releasing Turtle and grabbing Lucille, or staying on the dirt to cradle his partner. Dwight stepped up, keeping his gun trained on the approaching group. All the men wore body armor, Turtle realized, and had no visible guns.

_What the hell?_

"You first," Carol said smoothly. "And Carl - where's Rick-"

"At home, safe," Carl answered. "But…"

"We can catch up fucking later, lady," Negan barked. With a grunt he hoisted Turtle up, standing to his full height with her in his arms. "We have a pretty fucking urgent situation."

"Is she hurt?" Carol asked. Upon recognizing Turtle, her eyes narrowed, but she dared take a step forward.

"Yeah," Negan replied sourly. He glanced down at the wound, wrinkling his nose. Almost awkwardly, he said, "she…she needs help."

"Carol-" Carl began to speak, but Dwight hushed him, slowly lowering his guard.

"Help her," Negan staggered forward, reluctant to let Turtle go, even as she began to slip into unconsciousness. Everything seemed to be going by so slow - Negan's words, to her, were slurred, almost as if he were drunk. She could see his face through a very thin lens, and felt hard armor beneath her as one of Carol's men scooped her up.

"We'll make sure she lives," Carol said. "Carl…I'm not leaving you with them. I don't know who they are, and I don't care who they are - you need to come with us. We'll find Rick afterwards."

"By all means, take the kid," Negan barked. "I'll tell Rick that some crazy bitch came and snatched up his son."

"Carol. Tell him that Carol has his son," Carol nodded, backing away. "She'll be safe. I promise."

"She'd better be fucking safe," Negan growled. "Or I'll find you and bash in your fucking head."

"Negan," Turtle rasped. He didn't answer her, just kept a death glare trained on Carol as she backpedalled away, Carl grasping her hand, leaving Dwight and Negan in the dust.

"Just hang on," Carl murmured. "You'll be alright, I think. "

Very reassuring, Turtle thought, before slipping into unconsciousness.


	24. Shark Bait

"She'll live. She's lost a lot of blood, but she'll live," Carol said.

Turtle opened her eyes. She was staring at a grey ceiling with a rotating fan. Her entire body felt numb, from her fingers all the way down to her toes. Letting out a slow breath, she closed her eyes once more, listening.

She heard speaking. She'd recognized Carol's voice, and it was tired, laced with fatigue. She must have been next to the door, for her voice seemed far off.

Carl spoke. "She's with Negan. She's his wife or girlfriend or whatever."

Carol didn't respond for a long moment. Finally, she said softly, "Negan is the one who killed Abraham, right?"

"Yeah. Bashed his head in," Carl's voice sounded shaken. "And the girl you're keeping alive shot Daryl in the shoulder. Why did you run away?"

"You know why."

"You ran because you couldn't kill anymore. You thought you couldn't keep us safe. You didn't want to change, but you had too. Getting rid of her is doing us all a favor."

Turtle shuddered. Carl's voice was cold, far too emotionless for a child his age. It was filled with conviction and Turtle had no doubt that, if left to his own devices, that this boy would slit her throat while she lay, incapacitated.

"Ezekiel-"

"This Ezekiel doesn't know she's here yet," Carl said. "And he won't need to know after-"

"Do what you want," Carol's voice sounded heavy and tired. Turtle heard her turn away and limp back. "You're old enough to make these types of decisions, now. You're strong enough. I'm not."

Turtle opened her eyes. The ceiling fan was still rotating. She heard Carl gently shut the door behind him, and his light footsteps as he walked across the room. He approached with caution, surveying Turtle's limp form with one wide eye.

He was so young. And God, he looked like her brother.

"You should close your eyes."

"No," Turtle answered. "I'm not scared."

Carl drew his knife - it was a long, sharp thing that felt smooth against her throat. Carl placed it there, pressing just a little bit into her skin, over the jugular- not enough to draw blood, but enough that Turtle knew he was serious.

"I'm not scared, either."

"That makes two of us. Though, if you weren't scared, you would have slit my throat already. You admiring the view? Does this make you feel complete? Revenge is sweet, isn't it?"

"I'm not doing this for revenge!"

"Then why are you doing this?"

"I'm keeping my family safe," Carl growled, digging the knife deeper. Turtle hissed at the sudden sting.

"I'm not the person you should be worried about. You kill me, you anger Negan. Anger makes people stupid, and stupid gets you killed…but then what? The evil in this world is like…what's that creature? A hydra? You cut off its head and two more grow in it's place. I know it, and I've seen it. In fact, there's another threat out there right now."

"Who?" Carl dug the knife deeper, drawing a little dot of blood.

"Kill me and I can't tell you-"

"Carl!"

Turtle lifted her head, eyes wide. The man storming in carried a wooden staff and a tattered backpack that had definitely seen better days. His eyes were narrowed as he surveyed the scene - Carl, knife pressed threateningly against Turtle's throat - and sighed, letting his weapon rest against the wall.

"Let her live."

Carl didn't move. He still held the knife in a vice grip, the blade digging into Turtle's skin. His remaining eyes was rage-filled, but his expression seemed terrifyingly calm.

Finally, the boy said, "Right. Let her live, cause all life is precious, right? After all she's done to us, all the pain she's caused, you think her life is worth as much as Abraham's? Or how about Denise's?"

Turtle couldn't help but laugh. It was a wheezing thing, almost on the verge of deranged. The movements sent a wave of discomfort down her spine. She coughed, feeling the coppery taste of blood on her lips.

"You are naive-"

"Try me," Carl growled. The tip of the blade pierced through the taut skin on Turtle's neck, and she hissed, swallowing. "I dare you."

"Carl. We need her," the man said slowly. "She's an asset-"

"I don't care! She's with him!" Carl spun, facing the man. "Morgan, If we get rid of her-"

"If we get rid of her, we don't have the advantage. He will come for her," the man, Morgan, said. "And he will do anything in his power to ensure that she stays safe, and alive. Including surrender."

Morgan was looking at Turtle for confirmation. As if he wanted her to back up his statement. She smiled, licking dry lips and saying, "yeah. Be careful where you point that knife, Grimes."

"You don't seem like the type of person to seek out death and violence," Morgan said, stepping closer. From this angle, Turtle could see the hard lines etched onto his dark face. "And you've trusted us to heal you, feed you, keep you from dying. Can you trust us just a little bit more?"

"Does your definition of 'trust' involve me being kept as a prisoner?"

"Our definition of 'trust' involves keeping you alive, well fed, and rested. You call it a prison, I call it special circumstances."

"It's still all the same, right? I do what you tell me too. I kneel when you tell me to kneel, and you fuck me over when you wanna fuck me over. That's how it works, right? Fatten me up and throw me too the sharks when the time is right."

"More like a tiger," Morgan murmured. "This Negan man will listen to you. He'll take a non-violent route and we won't be forced to respond. We all back off and everybody goes home."

"You think he'll compromise?"

"You'll make him compromise," Morgan said. "And then, peace. Trading between the Kingdom, Sanctuary, Hilltop, and Alexandria. We work things out, put the past behind us."

"Until someone comes by and fucks it all up. How long do you think this peace will last? A week? Two weeks? There's another group out there. They dress like walkers. They're the reason I'm here, with you, injured. Who will you use as bait, then?"

"We'll find a way."

"Yeah. Nature always finds a way, doesn't it?" Turtle scoffed and leaned her head back. "You ever seen nature? The soft, pretty parts of nice. But it's got a bite - there's an awful lot of blood spilled, and not everything goes the way you want it."

"There will be peace. After all this is done, there will be peace."

"Nature doesn't like peace. And nature isn't in you control."


	25. Man Killed God

Rick Grimes visited Turtle two days later. She heard his voice outside the door just as she was standing up, hand pressed against the bandage on her gut. He was speaking to Carl urgently, the fear evident in his voice, as well as the worry.

He walked into the room, face hard and determined. When he saw Turtle struggling to stand up, he made no effort to help her. His hair was a mess, his bright eyes filled with something akin to disgust as he looked at Turtle.

Disgusting. That's what she was to him - to them. The door was left open, and outside, she could see the back of Ezekiel's head as he softly conversed with Michonne. Daryl, Carol and Glenn and another curly haired man who Turtle remembered as Aaron piled in behind Rick.

"You brought an entourage," Turtle said dryly. "Cool. I'm a little intimidated, though."

"You know what's about to happen, right?"

"Sure, Rick," Turtle sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. "You're taking me with you and attacking Sanctuary."

"We're giving Negan a way out. We're giving you a way out of all this," Rick pulled up a chair and sat before Turtle, leaning forward. The audacity surrounding him was palpable - Turtle could sense the animosity. It flowed off him in waves and saturated the room.

Daryl had his arm around Carol. He was watching her with narrowed eyes, lips pulled into a thin line. It was almost as if he didn't know what to think of her.

He had every reason to hate her - Turtle almost wished he'd just hate her. She didn't want to deal with anyone or anything anymore.

"Frankly, I don't think you deserve a way out."

"Really, Rick? And what exactly have I done to you, huh? Nothing. I haven't hurt your son or your daughter. I haven't tried to kill any of you - Daryl, Dwight wanted you dead, but guess what, you're alive, and it's thanks to me," Turtle snapped. "That man…Abraham. And Denise. They didn't die by my hand-"

"Don't shift the blame," Daryl snapped. "Don't make excuses."

Turtle fell silent. Her heavy breathing was the only sound in the room for a few long, agonizing moments.

"Yeah. I'll just sit here and accept my punishment."

"Fighting will only make it worse. Like I said, this is a way out. For all of us - I don't expect Negan to back down so easily, but he will. I don't think you want a war, Tessa."

"Do not call me that."

"Carl said that your name-"

"I don't care what your kid said. It's Turtle. Nothing else."

Rick nodded, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket. Without looking at her, he said, "We're going to do what has to be done. We have the firepower, and we have you. If that doesn't stop Negan, I don't know what else will."

"Your son suggested killing me. Tried to do it, actually- great kid, by the way. A real people person."

"Trust me, given the opportunity, we'd be happy to put you our of your misery."

"You have the opportunity right here, right now, but you can't. You've gotta feel good about yourself, first. Make it so you can say 'I tried, but in the end, things didn't go as planned.'"

Rick looked at the ground. Glenn scoffed and turned away, leaving the room. The other man, Aaron, spoke next. "Morgan said something about another group. A big group. The same people that injured you."'

"Yeah. Skin-people. They dress up like roamers or something," Turtle let her feet dangle from the edge of the bed. "I think they're a big group. They were organized and they had gear. And they knew where I was - who I was, I think. They'd done their research."

"Why are you telling us this?"

"Because, Rick, there are other threats out there. Bigger threats. I don't want you to get blindsided."

"That's exactly something you would want," Daryl said coldly. "How long are you going to keep playing both sides?"

"Until you pull your head out of your ass and realize that this plan of yours isn't going to work without someone going home very disappointed. It's how it always goes, right? It's never simple. No sacrifice, no victory."

"None of us here are going to be the sacrifice," Rick said. "If there has to be a sacrifice, it's going to be you."

"So I thought. You already have me tied up here. Might as well strip me, beat me, and nail me to the cross. You know, there were two others with Christ when he died. Two criminals, both nailed up beside him. I've always wondered what those two left behind. What they would have been able to go back to, had they not decided to go through with the crimes. Maybe they were trying to do good by their families, and got caught."

"This isn't a similar situation-"

"The only difference," Turtle hissed, "Is that we don't have a God to cry out for. God is dead, Rick Grimes. We killed him, and he cried out to us, and he damned us."

Rick shook his head, glancing at the ground. Turtle voice had become stoic, her posture slouched as she watched, her eyes heavy and tired. Her wound was beginning to ache, a reminder that she needed more painkillers. She growled, "When your plan goes to shit, God isn't going to save you. He isn't going to cause the ground to shake and the Earth to open up. Your friends are going to be stuck on that cross, and I'll be there with them."

"Maybe that's where you belong," Daryl snapped. Carol placed a calming hand on his shoulder, and he grit his teeth. Turtle ignored him, staring into Rick's bright eyes.

She said, face expressionless, "You wanna use me, pretty boy? Go ahead."  
~ ~ ~

"You think this is a punishment?" Morgan was busy guiding Turtle to the cars. "Carol told me about what you said earlier."

"The end of the world? You know what I think is scary, Morgan," Turtle said, sliding into the backseat. Her hands were untied - Daryl sat next to her, knife in hand.

"My family was murdered by a group of men. My little sister and I were raped for days. That could have happened even before the apocalypse. I think, if God wanted to punish us, he would have just let us all die."

Morgan fell silent. On the other side of Turtle, Daryl snorted and leaned against the window. He said, "That's why I don't believe in all that bullshit. Too complicated."

"Well, it's a complicated topic for complicated minds."

"You saying I ain't smart?"

Turtle smirked. "You think I believe in that still? God and heaven? The way I see it, this is God's kingdom, his holy-place. The afterlife he promised us all."

"So He must have lied," Morgan said, staring straight ahead.

"Or maybe he get's kick out of watching us scramble around like ants, killing each other. Maybe this is his definition of 'eternal life.'"

Daryl huffed, his eyes traveling to Turtle's bum arm. He pointed, raising an eyebrow. "What happened?"

"Got bit. Negan sawed it off. Saved my life."

"Is that why you decided to get with him?"

"No. I got with him because I love him. You understand that, don't you? You and Carol-"

Daryl ignored her. The car ride fell into silence. They were a caravan, heading to Sanctuary, directions curtesy of Turtle. Jesus was in the car behind them, along with Glenn, Sasha, Rosita, and Ezekiel.

Fucking Ezekiel, with his goddamn tiger. Turtle couldn't imagine how Negan would handle that - part of her cursed Jesus for introducing Rick to the eccentric man. Another potential casualty of a conflict that just kept growing bigger and bigger.

Michonne sat next to Rick in the passengers seat of Turtle's vehicle. Sometime, A still healing Carol and distraught Carl had peeled off, headed to Alexandria. Rick had a caravan behind him of dedicated soldiers, ready to fight.

Sanctuary was soon looming before them. Turtle craned her neck to look out the windshield, watching as an alarmed Eli, who'd been on guard duty, rushed down from one of the walkways. Turtle saw Sherry in the courtyard, Davis, her friends.

Shit.

Rick's crew stood before Sanctuary, lining the tattered streets. Some crouched behind abandoned vehicle, buses, anything that could be used as cover.

"You expecting a fight, Rick? I thought this plan was foolproof," Turtle jeered.

"Better to be safe than sorry," Ezekiel answer for Rick, who was occupied and calling for Negan. The tiger, Shiva, growled and stalked before Turtle, teeth bared.

Negan was on Sanctuary's half-torn balcony, suddenly, overlooking the courtyard. He had Lucille in hand and looked taken aback by the quantity of Rick's men. He had yet to see Turtle and kept a strong air of authority, even while shocked and befuddled.

"Is this fucking cheerleading tryouts? The fuck is going on, Prick Grimes?" Negan rubbed his eyes, raising his voice to a shout. "The fuck do you want?"

"It's more what _you_ want," Rick replied. Aaron grasped Turtle's arm, carefully leading her to the front of the crowd, into Negan's line of sight.

Immediately, Negan's face fell. He licked his lips, eyes shifting. He didn't say a word for a few moments.

Finally, he said, "Damn. That's fucking dirty, Prick. You gonna fucking use her against me? You think that shit is cool?" Negan walked to the edge of the balcony. "You have some fucking nerve."

"I didn't want it to come to this. You have a choice, right here, right now. Surrender, and she walks free. Nobody dies, and we can talk business."

"Okay, so first you fucking threaten my girlfriend, then you threaten me? Are you fucking kidding me? You think I'm going to lie here and let you fuck me and my men into oblivion? Fuck no."

Rick sighed. He looked torn, but after a long battle within himself, he nodded towards Michonne. The woman drew her katana, the motion flawless and graceful.

The blade rested dangerously close to Turtle's throat. She hissed. Next to her, Morgan kept a firm grip of his staff, and Daryl's fingers absently clutched his crossbow.

"What do you think you'll accomplish by killing her? You think I'll break? You think I'll lay my fucking ass down and accept what you did?" Negan sneered, clutching Lucille hard enough that his knuckles were beginning to turn white. After a long breath, he growled, "You think I didn't fucking know what you were going to do?"

For a brief second Turtle wished she had a camera. Rick's face fell. The confidence, which had been incredibly weak in the first place, faded away.

"Get the fuck out here, Gregory."

The old, gross, traitorous man stumbled into view, dragged by Dwight. He was stammering, pleading.

"You fucking see this? Hilltop surrendered. Any one of you who so much as lifts a dick and tries to go against me gets kicked from the island. Right, Gregory?"

"R-right," Gregory gulped and nodded. "Instant expulsion from the community."

"That asshole," Daryl snarled. He hoisted up his crossbow. "We need a new plan."

Michonne's katana was inching closer to Turtle. She was looking as Rick to give the executing order.

One of Rick's men emerged from cover. Erik, if Turtle remembered correctly. Rick gestured for him and he began stalking over, gun in hand.

Turtle had felt the feeling before - a sudden flash of terror. Random and uncalled for. It was the same terror she felt as she turned the doorknob and opened the front door of her home, only to be faced with five men and her father's dead body. In the seconds between the door swinging open and her first glance at what would be her assailants.

She'd almost forgotten that feeling. Now, here it was again, as Erik walked.

"Duck."

Erik exploded - the ground beneath him and around him and around Rick and the other's exploded. The shockwave sent her tumbling back, blown away by the sheer force of the blast. Dust as dirt and debris rained around her. The asphalt beneath her was trembling and screams filled the air - both from Negan's side and Rick's side. Cries of horror and despair and the sudden eruption of gunfire was almost too much for Turtle ears, and she wondered if she'd gone momentarily deaf in one ear.

She pushed herself up with her one arm. She squinted, searching for Rick, Daryl, anyone. She saw boots pound past her as people began getting into position, each side sending bullets flying.

Negan. She had to find him.

She stood and looked around. Her eyes fell on a body - Erik's body - deteriorated, burned, limbs black and curled in like a dead spider. Half his head was gone.

_God is dead._

Turtle leaned over and vomited.


	26. Ballroom Blitz

Turtle ran for Erik's body. She could see the machete poking out from his belt - it was blackened with soot and seared with fire, but it would work.

She grabbed it, ducking down and looking back and forth between the safe confines of Sanctuary and Rick's group. The dust was beginning to clear, replaced with the harsh smell of blood and death and gunpowder. She saw Rosita dart past, automatic weapon blaring. She saw Aaron on her heels, screaming, but Sasha tugged him to safety.

_"Erik! Erik!"_

Turtle wiped the blood and sweat from her eyes. There was a six meter sprint from where she was crouched behind mangled car, and Sanctuary's gate. She saw Negan shove Gregory aside and begin to dart of safety, but not before meeting her eye.

Turtle nodded. She held her machete up, feeling a presence behind her.

She turned. Michonne was advancing upon her, sword drawn. She had a less than friendly look in her eye, and for a moment, Turtle was confused.

She hadn't done anything wrong

It dawned on her, suddenly. The explosions hadn't been Negan's doing. The bombs had not been planted by Negan or any other Savior, and Michonne was ignorant of that fact.

The katana-swinging woman was going to kill her.

Michonne swung her sword and Turtle thrust her machete to defend herself. Blades met, and she sheer force of Michonne's much larger weapon sent Turtle tumbling back. She launched herself across the hood of her cover vehicle, watching Michonne as she did the same.

Duck and weave. Duck and weave - watch her feet.

Michonne swung again and Turtle ducked, pivoting. The next onslaught Turtle managed to leap back, the blade missing her stomach and slicing just a bit through her shirt.

"The herd! It's coming!"

Michonne's face fell. She knocked Turtle back with a hard kick to her injured torso. Turtle screeched at the contact, falling to the ground. She kept a firm grip on her machete, gasping as Michonne fell back behind cover.

Rick's words rang loud and clear. Turtle raised her head, eyes watering. Down the road, the undead were stumbling over one another, advancing towards Sanctuary and Rick's huddled followers with startling speed.

Turtle ran. She stumbled, clutching her machete. Eli was the one to open the gate for her, slamming it shut as the first of the roamers began falling upon them. Several of Rick's men were dragged away, consumed by gnashing teeth. Eli pulled her back as rotting, decaying fingers clutched at the locked, chain length gate.

"Get upstairs!" Eli yelled, reloading his gun and backing away from the main gate. "Now!"

Turtle didn't move. Her eyes fell across Rick and his men. She saw Daryl fire off an arrow, shouting something at Rick and pointing toward's the gate. Rick was heatedly arguing back, but Daryl didn't seem to be paying attention. He was too busy piling into one of their trucks, crossbow tossed into the passengers seat.

Oh, Daryl. Don't do something stupid.

Daryl proceeded to do something stupid, then. Revving the engine of the truck and speeding forward, through the wave of roamers and straight into Sanctuary's secure gate, bursting through and nearly mowing over both Turtle and Eli. The impact ripped the gate from its hinges and sent Turtle and Eli falling back.

Almost immediately, the undead began spilling into the courtyard. Gunfire began from the walkway, shattering the windshield. Daryl rolled out, coughing. The undead were upon him in seconds - he struggled to his feet, shoving a roamer aside and knifing another in the the skull.

"Shit," Turtle cursed. She gestured for Eli to follow, cutting and slicing her way through roamers until she reached Daryl, who struggled, pinned to the side of his truck. Turtle kicked the roamer from him, grasping his hand and tugging him towards Sanctuary. He was coughing and limping, and nearly dropped his knife.

"C'mon! Let's go, let's go!" Eli shouted. He turned and fired off a few rounds, backpedalling towards the Sanctuary's double doors.

With a final glance behind her, Daryl, Turtle and Eli toppled inside the compound. Davis slammed the door shut behind them, and everything was a flurry of motion - Turtle shouted as someone - possible Eli - sent Daryl sprawling with a punch that knocked him clean out.

Before Turtle could protest, Sherry was there, tugging her back. The sounds of the undead were driving Turtle mad, and she covered one ear with one hand.

"Grab him!" Eli instructed. "Tie him up!"

"The fuck happened out there?" Negan came stalking down the stairs, hair disheveled, jacket unzipped and revealing his blood-splattered white shirt. He carried Lucille in one hand and appeared absolutely furious, red-faced and panting. "What kind of goddamn-"

"I don't know," Eli glanced down at an unconscious Daryl. "I should kill this bastard."

"No," Turtle said snapped, dropping her machete. Eli sneered at her, rolling his eyes as she made her way over to Negan, embracing him. She pressed her cheek against his heaving chest and closed her eyes, feeling him move to wrap one Lucille-wielding arm around her.

"Fucking fuck," Negan breathed. "This is some deep shit. How many do you think are out there?"

"Too many," Sherry replied. She glanced towards the stairs and saw Dwight standing atop the walkway.

"Rick's men are retreating," Dwight said. "Look's like they got what they wanted."

"And we got something they'll want," Eli pointed to Daryl. "Fucking prick."

"Grab him. Put him in the storage area. And don't forget to tie him the fuck up," Negan began guiding Turtle up the stairs. "How many we got dead?"

"Seven," Dwight answered.

"Fuck. Fuck this shit, and fucking fuck Rick Grimes. And fuck whichever one of you put down those goddamn bombs!"

"It wasn't any of us," Dwight replied. "Nobody gave an order."

Negan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Goddamn it….get the fuck outta my face, Dwight. Get three people on the top balcony, four on the bottom. If those deadheads start to fuck off, let me know."

They reached Negan's room. His boots were bloody, and he took them off before entering the parlor. Turtle did the same, basking in the smell of scented air.

 _There's no place like home._  
~ ~ ~

Night began to approach. The roamers still staggered the compound, keeping the outside blocked off. This couldn't last forever, Turtle had assumed, though as the hours droned on she was staring to doubt her own words.

Daryl was still locked up. Unharmed, via Negan's orders. She didn't know why she'd saved his life. It had almost been impulsive - and impulse to do something right, for once.

Turtle sighed. Negan was outside the parlor door, speaking to Eli and Dwight. They discussed the use of noise, gunfire, to draw away the roamers. They discussed the use of fire or even force. Something that would preserve the most amount of lives.

None of it could work, Turtle knew, without a little death. Someone had to be given the honor. Someone who had to be willing to become a martyr.

Turtle was busy getting dressed. She'd borrowed some of Sherry's lingerie. It was red, with lace panties and a bra that pushed up her breasts. She'd found it while on a run one day - red was Negan's favorite color. Turtle had learned this from Amber weeks prior.

She didn't know why. She couldn't pinpoint what in her made her wants to do this for him, and partly, for her.

He entered the room and saw Turtle sitting on the couch. She'd debated doing a pose but she'd hadn't the time to come up with one.

"Oh, shit," Negan closed the door behind him. "You know, you could have fucking dropped me a hint. I wouldn't have stayed outside talking to those fucking dumbasses as long as I did."

"It was important."

"Uh-fucking-huh," Negan removed his jacket, glancing down at his bloodstained shirt, before removing that as well. Turtle kept her eyes on his mischievous smirk instead of the hard muscle of his arms and stomach. He was in front of her now, one hand reaching out to cup her face. He murmured, "You got dressed up all pretty for me."

"I've never done this before."

Negan sat down next to her. The kiss was almost instantaneous - his tongue swept against her lower lip, his teeth tugging at the skin. With her bum arm, Turtle pushed him onto his back, making sure to straddle his waist and give him a good view of her still-bandaged torso. He stopped, frowning, finger running over the gauze.

"Are you sure?"

"If it hurts, I'll let you know," Turtle leaned down to give him a quick kiss. She was eager to undress him, and her fingers immediately began to tug at the waistband of his pants. "I need you."

"I can fucking see that," Negan grinned, toying with her red panties. He licked his lips, sliding a hand beneath the fabric. "You are fucking dripping for me."

He pulled his hand away. Turtle ducked her head, nipping at his raised finger. He raised is eyebrows, watching, eyes filled with lust as she took the tip of his finger between her teeth tongue flicking forward to lick the skin While her own fingers absently tugged at his belt, sliding it from around his waist.

He groaned, "Goddamn…you are beautiful."

"I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, you fucking did. Now, take it all the fuck off for me. I enjoy that type of view much better."


	27. Try-Hard

Turtle awoke the next morning to Negan's insistent kisses against her shoulder. She giggled, reaching up to cover her nude torso - he hissed and stopped her, lips pressed softly against her throat.

"Last night went better than I thought it would," Turtle murmured, feeling Negan hum in approval as he wrapped strong arms around her, moving from her neck to her chin and landing on her mouth. Turtle leaned into the kiss, only pulling away so that she could whisper, "There are some things I need to get done today."

"They can wait. You can wait," Negan replied quickly, breathing in her scent through his nose. His heat, coupled with the blankets, made everything feel far more comfortable than it should have been. Turtle would have been perfectly content to stay where she was, pinned beneath Negan and his expert hands and mouth. He seemed to derive genuine pleasure from making her moan his name and scream in ecstasy.

But, she had work to do. And it wasn't work he was going to enjoy.

Nonetheless, Turtle found herself giggling and soon groaning as he slid one finger inside her, egging her on.

"I'm proud of you for being gentle last night," Turtle closed her eyes and sighed, moving her hips slightly as he slid yet another finger past her dripping cunt.

"You're hurt, baby, what did you fucking expect," Negan chuckled. "It took a lot not to fuck you harder than I ever have."

Turtle rolled her hips and Negan cursed, nipping at her lower lip. He shifted, spreading her legs and, without warning, pushed deep into her. Turtle gasped at the contact, but gave a whine of pleasure, wrapping her legs around his waist.

"I wasn't gone very long," Turtle moaned against his collarbone, feeling him buck his hips. She could only hold on as he drove into her rather gently. "What happens next time I leave?"

"You aren't leaving me. Not until," Negan hissed, cursed, and lifted his head to stare down at her. "Not until - fuck - I make you my wife."

"You're not-"

"No, no, fuck," Negan ducked down to capture her lips once more. "My actual fucking wife. You know, vows and shit and a ring which I fucking had somewhere-"

"Negan," Turtle placed a hand against his face, silencing him. "You know I'm going to say yes, but…we don't need a big wedding or even a wedding in general-"

"I know. I fucking know but…I just need to show you," he looked away, grunting, "How much I fucking love you."

"Perfect time to propose," Turtle threw her head back and laughed, the noise trailing off into a moan as Negan rolled his hips. Her thighs squeezed against his waist, tightening their grip. With a final groan he sighed, releasing and ducking his head as, moments later, she did the same.

Turtle wrapped her good arm around him. He looked down at her and said, "I didn't think half this shit through. That's something you and I both share. I fucking need you, Tessa. I need you and I love you."

"I love you, too. And yes, I'll be your wife. It would be an honor."

"Okay," Negan turned a bright shade of red, giving her an almost boyish grin. "Oh-fucking-kay…now, shit," he rolled off her, the bedsheets pooling around his torso as he sat up and began searching through the drawer on the bedside table. After a long moment he turned back around, extending a closed fist and gesturing for Turtle's single hand.

Turtle obeyed. He took it, raising her palm to his lips. He kissed it, taking a deep breath before sliding something onto her finger.

It was a ring.

"I wish this had some deep, symbolic shit. I found it forever ago," Negan scratched his head. "So, yeah. It's yours now. Congrats."

Turtle doubled over laughing, blankets clutched to her chest. She saw Negan shrug. She said, "I love it. You're spoiling me - I already got blood on your damn scarf. Probably shouldn't trust me with gifts."

"That fucking scarf saved your ass," Negan quipped, giving her a playful shove. "Best fucking idea ever. What's that? 'Thank you, Negan'?"

"I swear," Turtle wrestled Negan onto his back, crawling to straddle his waist. "I'll shove this damn ring up your ass."

"You into ass-play?"

"Oh my God."

"It's an honest fucking question. I'm up for anything, any day," Negan craned his neck when Turtle's mouth latched onto the skin beneath his jugular. He groaned, gripping her hips as she angled herself and deftly sunk down onto him, throwing her head back at the satisfying contact.

Fuck. Now she'd never get up.

"I'm up for this," Turtle purred. She watched him grit his teeth beneath her, nails digging into his skin as he helped her move, eyes transfixed on her breasts. "I really am, sir."

Negan sat up, pulling her close. The sheets settled around his hips and he bared his teeth, lunging forward to tug at Turtle's lower lip. Turtle was the one who pulled back, before diving back in, tongue pushing past his teeth.

"I love fucking you," Negan grunted, face buried in her breasts. "And I fucking love you."

He fell back, sighing and pulling Turtle against his heaving chest. The sparks of euphoria continued, even after they'd both finished - Turtle's hair, which was beginning to grow more and more, tickled his chin. She closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of sex.

Finally, she said, "Seriously, I have work to do."

"Nah. I'm canceling work. Stay awhile."

She did.  
~ ~ ~

"Rick thinks that we set those bombs off," Turtle said. "That somehow, we rigged the place before he got here. But we didn't, did we? I know Negan. I know he wouldn't have risked that, not with me standing so close."

Eli and Dwight stood before her on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. The roamers were milling around. About half had wandered off into the streets, but that still left a chunk of them filling the area around Sanctuary, blocking off the exits. If they needed to make a run, they were fucked. Supplies couldn't get in or out, and sooner or later, they'd run out of food.

Then, the animalistic instincts would set in.

"It wasn't anyone here. Those were trigger bombs," Eli explained. "Trigger bombs that you made."

"And where's the trigger?" Turtle answered, glowering and placing a hand on her hip. "Negan has all those bombs locked up. I'm pretty sure only he has the key-"

"Then it must have been him," Dwight said.

Turtle glared, rolling her eyes. "It wasn't him. I know it wasn't him. He wouldn't risk my safety like that. That bomb went off and nearly killed me - it had to be someone who didn't care whether or not I died."

"Or maybe someone was hoping to kill you," Dwight murmured. He avoided Turtle's gaze, staring out past the balcony and over to the roamer infested courtyard. "A shit ton of Rick's men were killed by that explosion, too."

"You think it had to have been a third party?" Eli raised an eyebrow.

"A third party, or someone who really doesn't care for Rick Grimes, you, or anyone else, for that matter," Dwight replied. "Someone out for revenge."

"When Rick and his group attacked Satellite Outpost, you had bombs stored there, right? And there's trade happening back and forth between Hilltop and Alexandria," Eli explained. Turtle's mouth tugged into a thin line, but she listened. "Now who from those two communities has it out for you, Turtle?"

Of course.

Of fucking course.

_"Ben's father still wants to kill you."_

"Son of a bitch," Turtle cursed, pushing past Eli and back inside Sanctuary. She stormed across the walkway, hearing heavy footsteps behind her. It was Eli who stopped her, grabbing her arm.

"Hey, calm down! Wait a second," Eli held her in a vice grip, even when she tried to tug away. "What are you going to do, huh? Someone has it out for you - so what? That's the way it is, now-"

"That 'someone' just started a war," Turtle snarled. When Eli finally released her, she stumbled back. "Someone has to know. Negan was going to surrender, or at least make a deal! We were progressing, Eli! People wouldn't have died if that bastard hadn't fucked it all up!"

"She's right," Dwight appeared behind Eli, stopping a few feet from her. "We can tell Rick - tell Negan-"

"No. No," Turtle stopped him, raising a finger. Sanctuary was eerily silent around them - a majority of its resident had retreated to their rooms. The sounds of the undead were unbearable, even for the strongest of men. "I can try and explain things to Rick, and then deal with…Ben's father. I have friends in Hilltop and Alexandria. People willing to hear me out - Negan doesn't."

"What are you going to do, then? Leave?" Eli scoffed. "Fight your way through?"

"The herd is thinned out. There's going to be an opening, sooner or later. I'm going tonight, alright? When I don't come to bed for the night, Negan will come looking - tell him everything, and tell him that's I'll be back in twenty-four hours. If twenty-four hours pass and I'm not back, start panicking."

"You are one crazy bitch, you know that?"

"No one's ever called me a bitch," Turtle shrugged. "Oh, and tell Negan that I love him. Like, a lot. Twenty-four hours, okay?"

Eli nodded, sighing. "Yes, ma'am."  
~ ~ ~

Rick had to trust her.

Turtle sighed, slinging her small pack around her shoulder. She crept to the back of the compound, careful to avoid getting near any of the windows in fear of alerting the dead. It was a difficult feat, aided by Turtle's light steps.

She reached the storage room, which had been converted into somewhat of a holding cell of sorts. The door had been unscrewed and replaced with metal bars welded in and hammered into place. It was a simple lock, and all it took from a flick of Turtle's wrist to open the door.

Daryl lay, still bound by his hands and feet, and gagged. Turtle felt bad, aiming a gun at him, but he complied and stood when she told him to stand, walked when she told him to walk. He didn't attack when she untied his feet and pulled the gag from his lips, staring at him with narrowed eyes.

"Get your ass moving, redneck."

"Where are we going?"

Turtle smirked. "You are heading home."


	28. You Shot First

Turtle hefted Daryl's crossbow over her left shoulder. She let out a breath, crouching down next to the battered, dirt-streaked man. They'd been able to skirt around the outskirts of the compound, pressed against the fence and making as little sound as possible. The roamers were spread out across the area, staggering and moaning and bumping into each other.

Daryl, with his hands tied behind his back, stuck close to Turtle. She suspected it was because she held his crossbow and a gun to his back, ushering him along in silence.

It took twenty minutes of sneaking, shushing, and slicing roamers from behind before they stumbled into the dark, empty streets.

"You know how to get to Hilltop?"

Daryl glanced over his shoulder. "Why Hilltop? That ain't my home, girl-"

"Turtle. You can call me that," Turtle wrinkled her nose, gesturing with her gun. "And you're all buddy-buddy with Gregory, right? Yeah. We're going to Hilltop first, and then we'll part ways."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Thing's aren't what they seem. Not anymore. I'm doing you and Rick a favor," Turtle nudged him with her bum arm. "I'm trying to stop a war."

Daryl snorted. He walked forward, eyes scanning the road ahead. It peeled off into an intersection, disappearing towards the forest.

"We need to find a car," Daryl said suddenly. "It'll take us all night to walk from here to Hilltop."

"Then find us a car," Turtle huffed. "You're Mr. Mountain Man, right? The hunter? Go on and hunt a car."

"You are crazy."

"Yeah, sure. And you smell like shit, Ranger," Turtle rolled her eyes and followed closely behind Daryl.

It didn't take them long to find a semi functional minivan with a snarling roamer inside. Turtle took it upon herself to thrust a knife through its head and shove it from the vehicle, sliding into the drivers seat. She tested out the engine, frowning at the noise - it sputtered once, twice, before one light flickered on, the other a cracked mess.

Daryl was forced to slide in next to her, hands still bound. He stared at her through his long hair, face expressionless as Turtle reached over to closet the door for him.

"You should let me drive."

"Nope."

"You have one arm," Daryl said, insistent. "Let me drive."

"No way. I can do this," Turtle backed the car up and sent it speeding down the vacant road. She sighed, leaning back, her one hand on the wheel. She saw Daryl eying his crossbow, which lay in the backseat. She snapped, "don't even think about it. Although, you do deserve a shot at me. I did shoot you."

"Yeah, I know. It hurt," Daryl replied gruffly.

"You mad at me?"

"If I was mad at you, I would'a killed you by now."

"Tied up? Yeah, whatever," Turtle grit her teeth. "Although, it would have been an even match. One arm against two arms tied together."

"You wanna test that out?"

"Maybe later. On your own time," Turtle shifted. "We're on my time, now."  
~ ~ ~  
Turtle could see Hilltop's gates from the road. The dead end opened up into a field, devoid of trees, with tall grass and a dirt surface. Turtle barely remembered the landscape - she'd been unconscious the first time entering the compound. Exiting, she'd been distraught.

She ushered Daryl out first, grabbing his crossbow and aiming her gun at his back. He walked, hand still bound, head ducked, toward the gates. The guards saw him first, then Turtle.

Immediately, they began scanning the area for Negan, as if Turtle was some appetizer to a buffet of sorrow.

"I'm alone," Turtle called up. "Well, not really. I have someone," she gestured to Daryl. "I need to speak with Jesus. Now."

"Gregory-"

"Jesus. Now," Turtle said coldly. "And you're gonna let me in. You're on our side now, remember? You wanna get kicked out of here?"

The guards seemed torn. Daryl's stony gaze convinced them to comply - they disappeared from the wall and returned moments later, pulling open the gates. Turtle was greeted to the flickering lights of beside lamps and torches that alit the dirt road leading to Gregory's lavish mansion.

Jesus came bounding into view, tugging on his cap. He saw Daryl, meeting the man's gaze and nodding.

"I brought you a gift. Tell Rick it's on me," Turtle said dryly. "I want to talk to you."

"Gregory is in charge. If you have any issues, bring it to him," Jesus replied.

"You think Gregory is going to give a fuck about what I have to say? There's a reason I picked you. You and Rick are tight, right? I trust you," Turtle slid her gun into it's holster at her hip, turning her eyes from Daryl to Jesus's equally shocked expression. "You are not going to believe the shit I have to tell you. You might not, but someone probably will. What's Ben's fathers name, again?"

"Howard."

"Cool. I want to see you and Howard, somewhere private. Now."  
~ ~ ~  
Turtle parted from Daryl. He did not say any kind words to her, nor did he thank her - she could see the gratitude in his heavy gaze as he took his crossbow back and disappeared towards Alexandria, but he did not verbally express it.

He, at least, didn't want to kill her.

Jesus retrieved Howard from his room, practically dragging him to the empty trailer where Turtle waited, tapping her foot.

She was making good time. She had a little less than twelve hours left before Negan was forced to come looking. Of course, he could already be looking. He wasn't a patient man.

Jesus stumbled in with Howard, who was half-awake, murmuring expletives. He straightened up at the sight of Turtle, something akin to horror and rage flickering across his visage. He was a thin, wiry man with dark hair and a sharp nose. Stress had wrinkled the skin around his mouth and eyes.

"What do you want?"

"Did you set those explosives?" Turtle tilted her head to the side as Jesus slid to block the doorway. "You know, the ones that almost killed me?"

"No."

"I'm going to need more than that. I didn't come all the way over here just to hear one word," Turtle stepped closer, but Howard stood his ground. "C'mon. You can do better than that."

"I didn't set those explosives."

"You were there, fighting, weren't you?" Turtle glanced at Jesus for confirmation, and the man nodded. "See, here's the problem - I'm trying to prevent a war. We didn't set those bombs, but Rick thinks that we did. I know Rick couldn't have set them, cause Rick isn't stupid."

"I'm on Rick's side."

"No, you aren't. You're on your own side. You want me dead, right? You want the Negan dead, right?"

"I'd prefer you both to be dead," Howard snarled. "I'd have the guts to do it myself. I wouldn't use no explosives. I'd stab you both in your sleep-"

"Howard," Jesus warned.

"No. I would. Whatever third party started this has nothing to do with me."

"You're the only plausible person to have done this. You're the only person with access to my bombs, and the only person who has personal beef with me and Negan."

"What about that Rosita chick? Or any of Rick's people, for that matter?"

"An Alexandrian died," Turtle growled. She was two feet away from Howard, now, staring up at him. "Rick's group may be one thing, but they're family. Maybe even more so than the people at Hilltop, and even more so than us Saviors. They wouldn't do that to each other."

"You're naive. You're a naive, murderous bitch-"

Turtle hit him. It was more of an uppercut than anything else, but it caused her knuckles to sting and her fingers to ache. Howard stumbled back, clutching his bleeding and most likely broken nose.

Jesus moved in to intervene, but Howard shoved him away. He advanced upon Turtle, one hand covering his nose.

"You wanted to know how I'd kill you?"

_"Howard!"_

Howard pulled out a knife. It was curved and sharp. It was a knife made for gutting.

"You come in here, accusing me of shit after I lose my son? After you people kill him?" Howard brandished the knife with ease, and Turtle slowly stepped back. "I'll fucking gut you!"

"Howard, put the knife down," Jesus yelled.

"Back off or I'll stab you, too. You shouldn't give a shit about this girl," Howard barked. "I'm going to kill her-"

"You'll make things way worse than they already are-"

"No, I'll fix things," Howard replied, giving Jesus another shove when he tried to advance upon him. Turtle took the opportunity to draw her gun.

Howard spun. His eyes widened and he lunged and Turtle's fingers curled around the trigger.

_"You bitch-"_

Howard's head exploded as the bullet hit him, point blank. He stumbled past Turtle, before slouching against the wall, face-first.

Something soft slid down Turtle's lip. It was a part of his skull, wrapped in flesh. A fleck of blood dripped off her eyelash and she hissed as the sticky liquid painted her face and stained her shirt.

Jesus stared at Howard's body.

"It wasn't him."

"I know," Turtle licked her lips, sputtering when she tasted blood. "He would have gotten the job done the first time."

"You killed him."

"Yeah. I did," Turtle sighed and knelt down, resisting the urge to vomit. She wiped blood from her eyes, pushing past Jesus and moving briskly towards the door, holstering her gun as she did so.

Jesus stopped her, gripping her bum arm.

"Why did you really come here?"

"To find out the truth. To tell you all that you're in danger," Turtle peered up at him. "Whether or not it was Howard or a fucking phantom, who cares? We're going to war against the wrong people. Fighting each other won't solve anything."

"That's rich, from someone siding with Negan."

"I want this to work. I want us to work," Turtle closed her eyes. "And I can make that happen. I can change his mind, make it easier for all of you. But I can't do it if someone is out there trying to force us all into war."

"You need me to play detective?"

"I need you to trust me. You have no reason to trust me, but I need you to. I will fix this. I promise."

Jesus stared at her, his face softening. It was almost sad, the way he looked at her.

"Some things just can't be fixed. All of this, all that's happened?" Jesus glanced at Howard's leaking body, dead eyes open and staring at nothing. "This can't be fixed."

"Watch me."


	29. Backyard Bash

"What the absolute fuck was that about? Are you fucking shitting me, Tessa? I about sent an entire fucking army after you - I swear to God you'd better not pull some shit like that again!"

"I had seven hours to spare," Turtle smiled, pushing past Dwight, ignoring Negan's agitated yells. She removed her bloodstained jacket, pushing open the door to the parlor. Negan followed behind her, stopping as she sat on the couch.

"You came in with blood all over you," Negan huffed. "Mind telling me what the fuck is going on? Why you ran out like that?"

"It's not like I wasn't going to tell you. I wanted to get it done with," Turtle sighed, folding her jacket and setting it on the table. "Plus, I had to go alone."

"Still, you could'a fucking told me," Negan grumbled.

"Would you have let me go alone, though?"

"No."

"Exactly. I understand the danger, and I'm sorry for pissing you off. It all came up so fast and I reacted," Turtle began removing her boots and her gun and her knife, lying them on the wooden coffee table. "Not my best idea."

"So, what happened? Dwight said you'd gone off to solve a Scooby-Doo mystery or some shit like that," Negan took a seat next to her, crossing his fingers together. "You think someone else set those explosives? Someone other than Rick?"

"Had to be. Someone is up to no good, Negan."

"When are they ever?"

"I saw Ben's dad. Ben. You know the boy you killed when we first got to Hilltop? I had a feeling it was him," Turtle squeezed her eyes shut. For some reason, she couldn't get the feel of blood off her face. The flecks were gone, but a tingling aftertaste was still there. "I got there, questioned him. He pulled a knife on me, so I shot him."

Negan hissed, sucking in his lower lip to keep from cursing. The muscles around his jaw twitched as he said slowly, "Did he hurt you?"

"No. Didn't get the chance. I'd already let go of Daryl - sent him away. I had to use him, Negan. I need Rick to trust me."

"I'd planned on killing him."

"I'm sorry for messing up your plans, but for all intents and purposes, I saved his life. Rick will remember that, and so will I."

Negan turned to her. Turtle reached out to touch his arm and pull him closer. She stared into his hazel eyes, mouth tugging downward into a frown.

"I'm trying to do what's best. For us. I don't want a fight, and I don't want any more death. I can't shake it off like you can."

"It's not easy for me, either," Negan scoffed. After a brief moment of silence he tilted his head. "Shit…is this what's been fucking bothering you? Ever since Miranda-"

"I think…I've gotten used to it. I've accepted it. I kill when I have to. I can't let it drag me down," Turtle ran fingers through her growing hair. It was past her ears, now. She'd have to shape it up sometime. "Miranda, those Wolves, Hound, now Howard. And the skin-people. I can't let it bother me."

"It's clearly bothering you."

"I'm not doing a good job," Turtle said sadly. "I barely know…me anymore."

Negan touched her face, his thumb ghosting across her lower lip. The movement was the most gentle thing Turtle had ever seen him do - she was, most likely, one of the only people on earth who'd get to see him like this.

"Listen, we all fucking change, okay? You think I know myself, either? Every day, every fucking day I ask myself what I did to deserve you and how the fuck have I lasted this long without fucking up. I used to do that a lot in the past."

"Ha," Turtle shook her head, leaning forward and pressing her lips gently against his. "You and me both. I don't want to bury the past, though. I want to remember it, but I don't want to live in it. Doing that kinda shit gets you killed."

"Yeah. Yeah, I suppose it does," Negan murmured, gripping her face in one strong hand, kissing her, harder than before. Turtle found herself moving, her fingers curling around the back of his neck. When she pulled away she found herself laughing.

"We haven't played cards in a while," Turtle whispered in his ear. "Let's change it up a bit. You saw me naked the other night - c'mon."

"I could see you naked every goddamn day for the rest of my fucking life and I'd be fine," Negan pressed light kisses against her neck and shoulder, practically yanking her into his lap.

"I said, let's change it up," Turtle purred. "Either we play cards or you strip for me."

"Really?" Negan raised his eyebrows.

"Really. Strip or cards. Your choice."  
~ ~ ~  
Negan couldn't stay mad at her for long, and Turtle knew. Therefore, the make-up sex had been far more lust filled than Turtle was used too - he was far less talkative than usual, instead choosing to focus on his lover as if he were seeing her for the first time. Turtle didn't know if it was fear that caused it, or something else.

He looked...peaceful while he slept. Turtle almost always woke before him, resisting the urge to sink back into his grip. They had work to do - always some sort of work. The post-sex haze, with Negan sprawled beneath the sheets alongside Turtle, was the hardest to pull away from.

"I'm going alone. We've had three slow days, and I've thought it over," Turtle sat on the edge of the bed, toying with the hem of her shirt. Negan stared down at her, arms crossed over his bare chest. He raised an eyebrow, clicking his tongue.

"The fuck you aren't. I'm going with you. I'll leave Dwight in charge," Negan reached for his clothes, but Turtle stopped him. He tugged his hand away, scowling. "Not this time. And you'd better not sneak out."

Turtle rolled her eyes, sighing and handing him his shirt. He tugged it over his head while Turtle watched, smoothing it out and looking Turtle up and down once more.

"You, me, and Davis. How about that?" Turtle tilted her head. "I have to get to the bottom of this. Howard was innocent - and even if he wasn't, the threat is still out there. Howard was just a part of something bigger-" Turtle trailed of, feeling a sharp pang in her lower gut. Her wound was fully healed, so she brushed it off - stuff like that had become normal to her. She took a breath and continued, "Jesus is in on it all."

"Jesus? Bearded guy?"

"With the cap," Turtle nodded. "Yeah. He's keeping an eye out at Hilltop for me. I'm not worried about the Kingdom. They can't hold a grudge."

"Uh-huh."

"You aren't into this Sherlock Holmes shit, are you?"

"Hey, I can't really fucking stop you. You do whatever the fuck you want, when you want," Negan shrugged.

"Damn straight."

Turtle gathered her gear and, later in the day, found herself climbing into the truck alongside Negan and Davis. She curled up against Negan's side while Davis gripped the wheel and steered the vehicle towards Alexandria. The drive was silent, with Turtle, head leaning against Negan's shoulder, staring out the window. Through the trees she could see the undead, hobbling around with their slouched posture and bent heads.

Alexandria's guards spotted them first, pointing and raising their hands. Davis slowed the vehicle and Turtle hopped out before it even stopped moving, walking briskly towards the gates as one of Rick's people - Sasha - tugged them open. She shot Turtle a glare before her eyes fell across Negan, and an even more intense look of ire overcame her sharp features. Nonetheless, she did not speak, and allowed Turtle, Negan and Davis to enter Alexandria.

"Where's Rick? We don't want any trouble - not after what happened last time."

"You here to bomb us again?" Sasha snapped.

"No. I'm here to talk. Where's Rick-"

"Right here."

Turtle spun and found herself staring into the deep blue eyes of Rick Grimes. He nodded in Negan's direction, upper lip twitching as he tried to keep tabs on all of them. Turtle noticed the machete strapped to his hip and the handgun holstered at his side.

"We need to talk," Turtle said.  
~ ~ ~  
As night fell, Rick's home became a flurry of activity. Turtle felt as if she were sitting before a council, the eyes of Rick, Michonne, Daryl and Glenn stared at her, all of them seemingly condemning. Turtle did her best to sit up straight and meet each gaze with confidence. Glenn stare was the least patronizing, as was Daryl's. Michonne held most of the animosity.

Sighing, Turtle met her eye. "I'm sorry. I fought back, during the battle. I didn't know what else to do."

Michonne's gaze softened, though it was still suspicious. It was enough.

"What do you want?" Rick said, addressing Negan, who sat reclined next to Turtle. Davis stood behind the couch, head ducked.

"We didn't set those bombs, and neither did you. I went to Hilltop, three nights ago," Turtle said, feeling Negan shift beside her. "I talked with Jesus. He and I made some leads. It was a third party, Rick. Someone with it out for us both."

"And you expect me to believe that? After all you've done?"

"What about what you've done, Rick? I know what you people did and what you can do," Turtle leaned forward. "I was there. The first time I ever saw you, you'd just murdered twenty-four of our men in their sleep. Your friend Carol didn't seem to have a problem murdering one of my friends. Paula."

Daryl stiffened, but said nothing.

"We're not here to talk about Paula, though," Turtle continued. "Or Abraham or Denise. We're here to talk about the future and all the other people that might die if we don't do something."

"Since when did you become the negotiator?" Rick glanced at Negan. "You said it yourself, Negan. No compromises."

"That was before all of this, before the skin-people,-" Turtle began.

"You're not in charge," Rick said coldly. He pointed at Negan. "He is."

Turtle fell silent, pressing her lips together. She felt Negan's arm brush against hers as he finally sat up, resting his elbows against his knee.

"First, Prick, you'd be smart to treat my lady with some fucking respect. Second, she's not fucking around, here. She's being serious, and she's way more into this than I am."

Turtle closed her and, absently leaning against Negan. "I want this to work - I want our communities to work. We're willing to change our terms, set up equal trade. But we can't do that if someone is out gunning for us specifically."

"If they're after you, that's your problem," Daryl said gruffly.

"If they know us, they know you," Negan replied curtly. "We're all fucking cozy with each other now."

"You said something about revisiting our terms? Maybe letting us off your leash a little bit?" Rick rubbed his chin. "We aren't doing your dirty work for you. We've already lost people."

"That explosion killed Erik. Was that his name? Almost killed Michonne, too. Trust me, this will benefit all of us."

"Yeah? That's what Jesus said when he asked us to kill you," Daryl pointed at Negan. "We were in too deep. We ain't doing shit like that again."

"You won't have too. This time, it'll be all of us. Sanctuary, Kingdom, Alexandria. Probably not Hilltop," Turtle frowned. "But we're enough, and we can get to the bottom of this. I'm asking you to trust me, Rick. Not Negan, not the rest of the Saviors, but me. And I have no ill will against you or any of your people - none of them have died by my hand."

"Look at you, fuckin' compromising," Negan licked his lips, rubbing a hand across Turtle's shoulder. "You see why I chose her, Rick? She tells it like it is."

"Your men," Rick said seriously. "You command them. They listen to you, respect you. Do they respect her?"

"They can learn," Negan said darkly. He rolled his shoulders, glancing to where Lucille lay against the edge of the couch.

One of Rick's people - Tara - pushed open the door. She was red faced and panting.

Her hands were covered in blood.

Turtle stared. It was all over her palms and it streaked up past her forearms. It was on her face as well, little splatters.

"Spencer is dead. Someone gutted him," Tara heaved. "With a machete or something."

A high-pitched, agonizing scream pierced the air. Then another - lower, more masculine.

"They've gotten in," Turtle stood, spinning. Immediately, Negan grasped Lucille while Michonne's fingers curled around her sword. "It has to be them. Has to be-"

Something stabbed her.

Well, it felt like something stabbed her. A sharp, intense pain in her lower abdomen caused her to stagger, one hand shooting out to grab Negan's arm.

"Start searching," Rick barked, brushing past Turtle. "If they're here, they're using the darkness as cover-"

"Rick!" Glenn said, his voice shaking. He stood, reaching out to help steady Turtle as she sucked in gulps of air. The shock was wearing off but the pain was sharp and pulsing. "Something's wrong!"

Rick ignored him. "Everyone in pairs! Get everyone to lock their doors and stay inside-"

 _"Rick!"_ Glenn shouted. Turtle groaned and found herself clutching Glenn's arm while Negan held her, one arm supporting her while the other held Lucille in a vice grip, prepared to swing.

"What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know," Turtle gasped. She squeezed her eyes shut, seeing spots, before allowing Negan to set her back on the couch. He crouched before her, abandoning Lucille by his side and cradling her face in his hands.

"Tessa, baby? What's the matter? What hurts?"

"Glenn and Michonne, start rounding up the others! Daryl and Tara, with me," Rick looked over his shoulder, sighing.

Another scream, another life taken.

"Negan," Rick growled. "Stay here with her."

"No," Turtle gasped. She tried to stand, but Negan forced her back now. She batted his hand away and stood, taking deep breaths, controlling her breathing as the pain began to ebb into something less agonizing. She could work with this pain. She glanced up at Negan, her hand curling around the hilt of her machete.

"You good?" Negan asked.

"Yeah," Turtle lied. "I'm good, I'm good. Let's go."


	30. Hostile Takeover Time

Spencer's body had, indeed, been gutted. A clean knife wound through the stomach. His innards were all over the concrete and his eyes were open - Turtle deftly slid her machete in and out of his skull before he could start moving again.

Negan and Davis stood behind her. Sasha and Rosita were out in the vacant streets, guns in hand. Farther down she could see Rick, Tara and Daryl, crossbow in hand, jogging down the road. She did not see Glenn or Michonne - they'd parted without words.

"This blows," Negan wrinkled his nose as he stepped over Spencer's body, Lucille in one hand. Turtle stood, trying to adjust her posture so to make it look as if she were stable - she felt a bit woozy, her limbs heavy. Davis seemed to notice but said nothing.

Gunshots.

"Is that our cue?" Negan grinned like a shark, spinning on his heels when a light groan split the night air. A woman was hobbling down the sidewalk towards him, dressed in a pink robe and slippers. She was obviously dead, her gut sliced clean open, her stomach padding lightly against her thighs as she walked. Negan licked his lips, swung Lucille, and the woman's head split open like a melon.

They came out of nowhere - four of them. All dressed in the skins of the undead. Turtle was slower, fatigue dragging her down. She twisted as - a fucking spear? - nearly pierced her side. She swung her machete and nearly managed to take the head off her skin-clad attacker.

Negan was there, suddenly, swinging Lucille and bashing the woman's skull in. She toppled, shouting for her companions. Two were wrestling with Davis while the other was springing up to help.

Turtle yelled and swung her machete. The blade entered below his ear and carved out a line from mouth to jaw. Blood spewed and the skin-clad man fell over backwards, his life ended by Lucille's barbed head.

"Fuck," Negan leaped over toward's Davis. Turtle followed, legs shaking as she struggled to stand. The pain was gone but the soreness remained. "Fucking fuckity fuck!"

"Negan," Turtle stopped, clutching her stomach.

"Not a good time," Negan swung Lucille, bashing in a head before lashing out and kicking the remaining attacker from Davis's bleeding body.

"Negan," Turtle sank to her knees. The revelation had dawned on her - well, the speculation, really.

She rarely tracked her menstrual cycle anymore. It had become common knowledge for her - second week of every month, right? Give or take a few days.

It was week six.

Davis picked himself up off the ground. He had a bloody nose and a bloody scalp, his elbows skinned and his face bruised. He brushed himself off, sniffing.

"Negan-"

"What is it?" Negan knelt beside Turtle. "What's wrong? Are you hurting?"

"I need a doctor. Robert," Turtle swallowed, reaching out to touch Negan's face. "Back at Sanctuary."

"What's the matter?"

"Oh, you are not going to believe this shit…"  
~ ~ ~  
She held on to Negan's arm as he led her down the streets of Alexandria. The last bit of gunfire was dying off, but it all felt like drums on the inside of Turtle's ear. She kept her head down and her feet moving.

"That's the last of them," Rick said, jogging up to Negan as they made their way to the truck. His hands and face were covered in blood. "Only twelve-"

"We took out fucking four of them. Those pricks jumped us," Negan said gruffly, gripping Turtle's arm tighter. "Oh, shit! Great news, Rick! There's gonna be a mini-me running around in nine months."

Rick looked stunned. He looked at Turtle and she confirmed Negan's words with a slight nod.

"Congratulations."

"Yeah," Negan beamed. "Totally. Now, get the fuck out of the way."

"Where are you going?"

Turtle coughed and silenced Negan before meeting Rick's tired, heavy gaze. "Doctor. We're gonna be back, Rick, don't worry."

Rick nodded. Awkwardly, he reached out to shake Negan's hand.

"Best of luck to you," Rick said, though he didn't sound like he meant it.  
~ ~ ~

Davis kept his hands firmly on the wheel as they drove back to Sanctuary. Turtle, head resting against Negan's shoulder, kept her eyes shut in hopes that the ache in her belly would dissipate.

She was going to be a mother.

Or, at least, she thought she was going to be a mother. This could be something else, right? A terminal illness. All her injuries, catching up to her. Trauma. Maybe the fucking flu.

She felt Negan shift in his seat, careful not to dislodge her. His thumb stroked the back of her had, peeling off the little streaks of blood. It was underneath her nails, on her knuckles - it felt like a permanent part of her, now.

She couldn't raise a child in this. Not now, not ever. This world wasn't meant to harbor children.

"Shit," Davis cursed, inching the car to a stop. Sanctuary loomed before them, but something was off. It wasn't alit and the guards were absent from their posts, and the bodies of slain roamers lay scattered across the road.

No.

The skin-people stood by the gate, brandishing machetes. Negan immediately grabbed Lucille and hopped from the vehicle, allowing Turtle to take his hand and follow behind. Davis slammed the car door shut and stopped next to them.

"Oh, no."

The decapitated heads of Eli and Amber stared at them, mouths moving. A pole had been driven through their necks, and they'd reanimated, eyes open and faces devoid of any flushes of human live.

Turtle nearly collapsed. Negan held her, eyes wide, breathing heavy.

A bald woman dressed in black approached through the open gate. A hulking figure of a man followed her, clad in the dripping skins of the undead. Turtle recognized his stern gaze and mischievous smirk and immediately recognized him.

He'd survived the explosion.

Fuck.

And then, Dwight. Hobbling meekly along, his steps calculated. A gross combination of guilt and pride flashed across his features when he saw Negan and Turtle at his mercy,

They were cut off. Turtle saw those skin-clad devils on her right side, and her left side. Dozens of them.

Amber and Eli's heads groaned. Turtle drew her machete and approached, but Negan stopped her.

"Dwight, what the fuck is this?" Negan snarled.

"Hostile takeover," Dwight answered simply."You've been played. Now, drop your weapons, or my friend Beta," Dwight gestured to the hulking man. He dwarfed Negan with ease. "Will take them from you."

"Like fuck he is."

Beta was suddenly close - too close for Turtle's liking. He slapped the machete from her hand, fingers curling around her throat.

Negan quickly raised Lucille. Dwight clicked his tongue and Negan found himself staring into the barrel of a gun.

"Do not move," the bald woman said coldly, nodded towards Dwight. "Lower the bat."

"Let go of her and I'll fucking consider. That skin-shit ain't Lucille-proof, right? And who the fuck are you?"

"My name is Alpha."

"Cool. Well, Alpha, have your boy here get his nasty fucking hands off what's mine, and I'll lower Lucille here. Deal?"

Alpha smirked. Her piercing, cold eyes stared deep into Turtle, as if analyzing her from the inside out. Finally, she nodded, and Turtle was released. Sighing, Negan gently cradled Lucille before setting her on the asphalt. Turtle did the same with her handgun and her machete, very aware that the tall, brute of a man - Beta - was staring at her bum arm with something akin to fascination.

"Fuck you, Dwight," Negan spat. "It was you all along, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Dwight shrugged. "I did good with the Wolves, too. Almost managed to kill you. And you," he nodded towards Turtle. "Watching you run around like a chicken with it's head cut off was fun. You were so close to the truth yet you couldn't have been farther away. And honestly, had it not been for your enthusiasm, we never would have been able to take this place. So, thank you."

Turtle spat at him. Alpha stepped forward, suddenly, the back of her hand connecting with Turtle's cheek and nearly spinning her around. Negan lunged but Beta was on him, as if awaiting a signal.

"None of that," Alpha said. "You will learn that your place is now beneath me."

"How about I shove my foot up your ass, see how that feels," Turtle snarled, stepping forward. It was Negan who stopped them, struggling against Beta's powerful grip. Davis, frozen with fear, stood by the truck and did not dare intervene. He seemed in shock, his main focus on the snarling heads of Eli and Amber.

Negan growled, "Stop this!"

"We're only just now getting started," Dwight barked. "You? You've been on my bad side for a while. I almost went to Rick, you know? Then I found the Whisperers - well, they found me. All I had to do was lie and provide them with explosives. I thought it would be cool if they managed to kill you, Turtle, but that didn't go so well."

"You killed four of my men," Alpha said, scowling. "Rest assured, you will pay."

Turtle stared at her, cheeks stinging. Negan was still being restrained by Beta, and when she met his gaze it seemed hopeless. It was the first glimpse of vulnerability Turtle had seen since his injury.

Somehow, this felt worse.

"Take them both inside," Alpha instructed. "All these supplies are ours, correct? As well as the facility?"

"Stay as long as you want," Dwight said, spreading his arms. "Davis will fall in line soon enough. And do whatever you want with the other two."

Alpha grinned. It was snakelike, predatory. She seemed particularly interested in Negan, her eyes raking across his protesting form.

"With pleasure," she said. "These two belong to _us."_


	31. Judas Has A Point

Davis was herded away like loose cattle. Turtle found herself bound by her legs once more and tossed into a holding cell - the holding cell that, just a few days ago, had been inhabited by Daryl.

She could see through the bars. Negan was gone - he'd been dragged off by Beta. He'd had the most agonizing expression on his face, one of hopelessness and despair. For the first time he looked utterly, truly broken and beaten down.

Turtle leaned her head back against the wall, eyes closed as the breathed in and out. Her bum arm rested against her stomach.

"Hey."

Turtle opened her eyes, squinting. She saw a faint silhouette slowly come into focus. She recognized Dwight and his ratty clothing and smug expression. He was staring at her with a combination of pity and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of guilt.

"I didn't think you'd be involved in all this. I only wanted Negan dead."

"That wouldn't have sat well with me, you know. His bullshit is my bullshit, now, and my bullshit is his bullshit. That's how a relationship works - you of all people should know that."

Dwight grimaced. "Sherry and I are different."

"Were different, maybe. She still here?"

"Yes."

"Is she happy?"

"Of course not. She's never happy," Dwight sighed. "I've tried to make things better for her. Better for all of us."

"Maybe for you. You call this better? Those psychos murdered Amber and Eli!"

"That was because you murdered some of their people. They wanted it even. Amber and Eli just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. We used to do the same, remember? Negan used to do the same. Kill just to send a message."

"I never justified any of it."

"You don't control him. You may think that you do, but you don't. You thought you could tame him," Dwight sneered. "But he's a monster. Psychotic. You can't cure that."

"I was halfway there, until you screwed me up, asshole. What are you going to do to him, huh?"

"Kill him."

Turtle hissed. "And me?"

"I'm letting Alpha decide that. That way, the blood won't be on my hands, right?" Dwight knelt down, eye level with Turtle. "Negan said something about a baby. He knocked you up at a time like this, huh?"

Turtle said nothing, and Dwight continued, taking the silence for submission. He said, "Robert is still here. He didn't dip out like some of the Saviors. I'll do you a favor - I'll let Robert check you out, see what's growing in that stomach of yours."

"Don't you want it to be a mystery?" Turtle grumbled. "That way, if it's true, you won't have to live with condemning a pregnant woman to death."

"Or, it may just say your life. Sure would suck for Alpha to be ruthless enough to slaughter a pregnant woman. Now get up."  
~ ~ ~  
Beta escorted her through the halls of Sanctuary, which were already beginning to feel foreign. Without all the noise it felt empty.

"After this, I want to talk to Negan."

"Nope," Dwight said, trailing close behind. "And that's me saying no by the way, not Alpha."

"You're a traitorous bastard, you know that?"

Dwight shrugged. Robert seemed to be anticipating their arrival, and though he shot nervous glanced at Beta he welcomed Turtle with joy, as if happy to see a another familiar face.

Twenty minutes later, after talking, delaying, and even more talking, Turtle was covering her mouth in both fear and joy.

She was one-hundred percent going to be a mother.

And she was about seventy-percent sure she was going to die before she could even feel the faintest hint of a bump. The baby inside her wasn't going to get the chance to develop before it was destroyed.

"See, now you might live," Dwight said. "You should be glad. I just upped your chance of survival."

"You aren't getting a thank you," Turtle snarled. She slid from the table, ducking her head. "Now, where's Negan?"

"I said no."

"Not even five minutes?" Turtle tilted her head to the side. "Not even five minutes for me to break the news? Let him have a happy though before you murder him? That his wife and child might survive? Wouldn't Sherry have wanted that for you, if she were in my place?"

"You know, it pisses me off when you say her name. Like you know her. Like you know what she'd want," Dwight sneered. "You took everything from her. She had to kill for you! She had to change for you! You forced her!"

"I didn't force her to do anything," Turtle growled, stepping closer. When Beta attempted to intervene she pushed his big hand away. "She made a choice! And that choice saved my life!"

"You act like you know people when you really don't. Negan, Sherry…Rick, Daryl. I'll never understand it."

"Because I want to save people-"

"Sometimes people can't be saved," Dwight spun. "Five fucking minutes with your boy, alright? Then you and Alpha get to spend some time together."

"She's going to kill me, isn't she?"

"I'm sure she'll make it quick. If you're lucky."  
~ ~ ~  
Negan was a wreck.

He wasn't moving when Turtle entered the room that held him. He was leaning against the wall, head ducked. Turtle entered first while Beta and Dwight stood back by the door.

Turtle knelt next to him. He moved slightly as he felt her presence next to him - he lifted his head and his eyes became alit, rekindled, and he smiled boyishly.

"You look shittier than I do."

Turtle was covered in blood - Whisperer blood. Negan was busted up from head to toe, his face exhibiting signs of a beating. Swollen eye, split lip, blood dried on his shirt and jacket.

"That's a poor joke," Turtle said, chuckling. "Yet here I am, laughing."

"I missed you. Sucks to fucking sleep alone."

Turtle nodded. She reached out to grasp his hand and saw that his knuckles were bloody and swollen, likely from a fight. She said softly, "So I'm officially knocked up."

"Great timing."

"I told you, your pullout game is weak."

"Or those condoms we fucking got? False fucking advertising. I call bullshit."

"And you are full of shit," Turtle gave him a playful shove, wincing when he hissed a little but laughed anyway. She said, "At least I don't have shit tastes in friends."

"Dwight's more of an accomplice. Oh, and shit tastes in friends? You fucking decided to fuck me, of all people."

"Is that you admitting that you're uncool?"

"I can be fucking humble, babe," Negan gently swiped his thumb across her lower lip, eyes traveling to her stomach. "It's a shame we're both fucked. I would'a liked to see our kid."

"Alpha is going to kill me," Turtle said, far too nonchalantly. Maybe it was the acceptance setting in that made it easier. "I came by because I wanted to tell you that I love you."

"Five minutes are up," Dwight called. Negan growled and sat up, tugging at his binds. Almost instinctively he noticed Beta's slow approach and wiggled to shield Turtle from him.

"Can't a man say goodbye to his woman? Fuck off, asshole-"

Beta reared back and punched Negan so hard that his head snapped to the side and blood flew from his mouth. Turtle screamed. Dwight cursed and stormed into the room, wrapping an arm around Turtle tugging her toward's the exit.

"You sack of shit! Turtle-"

Beta's fists moved and Negan fell once more. Turtle could help the shouts that flew from her lips or the tears flowing from her eyes. She saw Beta, muscles testing as he drove Negan into the wall.

"You let her the fuck go-"

Beta clocked Negan so hard that he collapsed and didn't get back up. He was out, limbs askew and extended.

Turtle shrieked.

_"Negan!"_

"Shut up!" Dwight snarled. Turtle spat in his face and he backhanded her, adding another bruise to her cheek, along with a burst of blood from her nose, which she reached up to stem.

"You're going to meet Alpha, and you're going to die. You better not be a bitch about it, okay? All of this is about to end, understand? All your pain and suffering and sadness and anger. I'm giving you a gift. Say 'thank you, Dwight.'"

Turtle sniffed. She shook her head and Dwight backhanded her again, harder this time.

"What do you say to me?"

Turtle spat. He hit her again and she stumbled.

"What do you say to me?"

"Fuck you-"

Again. Turtle was crying, now. Behind her she could hear Negan groan.

"What do you say to me?"

"Thank you," Turtle broke, her words gurgled by the blood in her mouth. "Thank you."

"Fucking good. Now, you have a date with Alpha."


	32. Canine Teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Explicit Rape/Flashback's of Rape in this chapter.

Alpha's cold stare could not pierce her.

Turtle stood, head ducked, blood beginning to dry on her lip and chin and cheek. Her hair was a limb, frazzled mess and she was heaving, breathing through one working nostril.

Alpha stalked her like a lion. Her gaze was heavy and hard and full of nothing but pure, unaltered savagery. Turtle had no doubt in her mind that she'd kill her and feel no remorse.

Yet, she did nothing. She let Turtle shake and cower in fear before finally stopping before her, standing a good two inches taller than Turtle - it wasn't much, but now, it seemed to make a difference. Once again, Turtle felt small

She'd always been so small.

"I spoke with the Savior Dwight," Alpha tilted her head. "He seemed perfectly content with handing you over to me."

"Whatever. Do whatever it is you want to do, then go to hell."

"I look at you and I see potential. You've survived with one limb," Alpha reached down to grasp Turtle's bum arm, squeezing its severed end. "And you happen to be fond of explosives. I could use someone like you."

"You already know my answer," Turtle yanked her arm away. "And you could never give me what Negan has given me. Not a home, not a safe space for me or the baby I'm going to have."

Alpha raised her eyebrows, peering curiously at Turtle's flat stomach. She said, "Beta mentioned that you were pregnant."

"I'm hoping you aren't as cruel as everyone says you are."

"The way I see it, I'd be doing you a favor. Save you the pain of childbirth and the death that would follow - for both you and the child." 

"I'm not joining you. I'm not giving anything to you."

Alpha furrowed her brows and reached out to grasp Turtle's shirt, her dirty nails raking across her skin. She pulled her toward's the door, keeping a vice grip as she dragged Turtle behind her, toward's Negan's cell.

Beta was waiting.

Turtle struggled from Alpha's grip, breathing labored as she saw Negan stand. His face was bruised for the earlier beatings, and he seemed to have trouble focusing - he stiffened when he saw Alpha with her hand dangerously near Turtle's throat.

"Will you beg for him?" Alpha snarled, pointing. Beta opened the cell and entered, movements calculated and cold as Negan found himself backed into a corner.

"You don't have the guts," Turtle growled. "He's Dwight's kill and you know it. That was the deal."

"What would you do to ensure his safety?"

Alpha's foot lashed out and connected with the back of Turtle's knee. She fell, landing hard and remaining motionless.

She locked eyes with Negan moments before Beta slammed a fist into his head. Turtle let out an audible gasp, reaching for him. Alpha held her back, scolding her, gripping a fistful of her hair and forcing her head back so she could see everything, from Negan's open, bloody mouth to Beta's steps as he reached down and casually flipped Negan onto his stomach.

"You'd better - fuck," Negan spat as Beta hit him again. "Get the fuck off me, you dumb brute!"

"Stop," Turtle whined. She struggled but Alpha had her in a headlock.

Beta had a knee on the small of Negan's back, one hand working on unbuttoning his pants. Turtle struggled but could not breathe freely, and she could feel Alpha's breath on the back of her neck.

_"Take the young one first."_

"Stop," Turtle sobbed. "Please, stop."

"Hey," Negan turned his head. "Look at me, Tessa. Fucking look at me!"

_"Look at it! Fucking look at us, running a train on your sister - goddamn!"_

Their dirty hands were on Turtle's throat, holding her down as one man stripped her of her clothing while another knelt above her, pants unbuttoned.

_Her sister lay naked and dead in the corner._

"Focus on my face, okay?" Negan said. He clenched his teeth as Beta rammed a fist into the side of his head to silence him. The big man above him tugged at him, pulled him closer as he readied himself. Negan kept speaking despite the onslaught. "Don't look at anything else, alright? I love you."

Turtle stared at his face. His big, brown eyes, hair falling past his forehead. His cheek was pressed into the concrete, Beta's hand gripping the back of his neck. All the while Negan lay there, face expressionless save for the red seeping into his face as Beta's hard movements became too much. His eyes began to water but his mouth remained closed, only opening to talk to Turtle.

"Are you looking at me?"

"Yeah," Turtle sobbed. She struggled feebly but Alpha only tightened her grip. "Yeah, I am."

_"You have her legs? Put your dick in her mouth - yeah, like that-"_

Turtle was screaming but no sound came out. Her eyes were filled with tears and they streaked past her face and from her nose.

"You've had something like this happen to you before, haven't you?" Alpha crooned. "I can see it. I can see the way you react - but this isn't true pain to you."

"Stop, please. Stop."

"Now you're begging."

"Take me," Turtle wept. "Take me not him."

"I wouldn't hurt the baby," Alpha said coldly. "Not now. It's not your time, yet. You will die when I allow you to die-"

Beta groaned, suddenly, pulling out and leaving Negan, face contorted with pain, panting with his face against the concrete.

He was broken.

"This is what humiliation feels like," Alpha crowed. "Trust me, I would know."

Negan lay in silence. His eyes were locked with Turtle's, his face an emotionless mask and his mind and body tried to process what had happened.

_"We'll take her with us tomorrow. Leave her in that corner right here."_

"Let him keep his pants," Alpha pulled Turtle to her feet. She spun, and standing before the cell was a girl, no older than Carl, staring up at them. Her eyes were on Negan as he lay, still not moving, eyes open. Then they fell on Beta who was tucking himself away, before finally landing on Alpha.

"There are some people out front. Lot's of people. The leader says he's Rick Grimes and that he wants to talk with you."


	33. Foot of the Rabbit

"Rick fucking Grimes, huh?" Negan spat out a glob of blood, resting his forehead against the concrete ground. The girl stared back at him, eyes wide. Her blonde hair tumbled past her shoulders and she began to shake.

"He's reasonable," Dwight explained to Alpha. "He has a grudge against Negan. Hates Turtle, too. If anything, he wants to talk about some sort of execution."

Turtle ducked her head, feeling Alpha's grip on her slacken. Negan rolled over and sat up, wincing in pain. He wasn't looking at Beta or Alpha or even Turtle, now - he was backing up against the wall, legs crossed.

"Let him speak," Alpha said calmly. "If what he has to say is worth our time, I won't consider killing him," she placed a hand on the little girls shoulder and pushed her back, gesturing for her to follow. "Let's go. Dwight, with me. Beta, toss those two together and stand guard."

The girl nodded, sticking close behind. Turtle found herself hoisted and thrown like a full garbage bag into Negan's cell. The door slammed shut and Turtle hastily crawled to Negan.

He didn't respond when she touched him. Turtle's fingers gently slid up his face, and she stared into his dark, disturbed eyes. What stared back seemed foreign to her.

"Negan," Turtle said slowly. "Say something. Please."

She was aware that Beta was watching them, standing motionless on the opposite side of the door.

Negan said, "Not much for me to fuckin' say."

"Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm not fucking okay. My ass is sore," Negan chuckled darkly. "Is this what it felt like when those men touched you?"

"Negan-" Turtle began, still keeping his face cradled in her palm.

"No. Don't answer that. I don't want to know," Negan reached out to touch Turtle's stomach. "We should fucking…we should talk about this. Your baby."

"Our baby," Turtle corrected. "And it's going to be beautiful."

"The chances of this baby being born are fucking slim, you know that, right? And even if we were to get out of this, escape, where would we go? Hilltop? Hell, Alexandria?" Negan scoffed, leaning into Turtle's comforting touch. "We are fucked, Tessa. End of the fucking line."

"Rick's here. That has to mean something."

"He's here to watch us fucking die," Negan said loudly. "That's what Prick fucking Grimes is here for."

Turtle's face fell. She coughed and looked away, saying, "Michonne does want to kill me."

"And Rick's fucking her, so there you have it. A king can't say no to his queen."

"It's not just Michonne, its everyone," Turtle breathed. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

Negan was right.

Even if they somehow were to escape, who would take them in? Who would help deliver her child? Feed her child?

Turtle hadn't done the best job making friends, and now, thanks to her eagerness to save lives and do the right thing she'd gotten them stuck.

Killed.

"Negan, this is on me."

"What do you mean?"

"This is my fault. We're in here because I couldn't keep my mouth shut."

_They were in here because of her righteousness._

"Hey, Dwight would have fucked us over regardless. What was it he said? He was going to go to Rick?"

"For all we know, he did, and that's why they're here."

"I fucking doubt it. That nasty redneck-"

"-Daryl."

"-Would have put a bullet between his fucking eyes. Dwight's an idiot, but he played his cards right, this time. Sure as shit won't ever happen again."

"The one time," Turtle said sadly. "And it happens to be when I'm screwing up the most."

Negan gripped her wrist. "I fucking fucked up by letting you go down in that metro. You lost a fucking arm cause of me," Negan replied slowly. "And every goddamn night I can't help but think what would had happened to you if I hadn't been so fucking stupid."

"I never would have met Jesus," Turtle shrugged, laughing a bit. Negan was holding her hand, now, his other fingers tapping light patterns against her stomach.

"See, chain of events type of thing. You did, good, Tessa. You really fucking did, and this isn't on you. It's on the fuckers who thought it would be cool to fuck with us."

Turtle gnawed on her bottom lip. She looked at his bruised face and arms and said, "I'm going to kill Beta. And Alpha. And Dwight. I didn't want to kill Miranda, or even Hound or Howard. But I want to kill them and I'm scared because it feels so raw and so right."

"You'll realize that there's no true satisfaction, but only after you've done it."

"I don't want to become like those men."

"You won't. Not after what they took from you.

Turtle huffed, glancing down at her belly. She'd have a bump, soon. If she survived. The name struck her and she gasped softly, eyes wide.

"If we have a girl," Turtle said softly, "Can we…my sister. My little sister's name was Susan. Can we name her after my sister?"

Negan nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Perfect."  
~ ~ ~  
They were gagged and dragged into the courtyard. Turtle first, then Negan.

Judgement day.

A majority of the Whisperers hung back, in the shadows. Rick's group stood, front and center. Turtle saw Michonne and Daryl, Rosita, Sasha, Glenn. Carol and Morgan, too, along with Jesus.

Turtle kept her head down. They weren't here to help - they'd practically been invited. This was like Christmas come early to them. The demise of their enemy would lead to an era of peace.

Turtle hoped. She prayed. Something good had to come out of the deaths of her and Negan and the baby.

That would be worth dying for.

Dwight was practicing with Lucille, swinging her, testing out the grip. Negan was forced to his knees next to Turtle, staring dead center at Rick and his group as they watched, seemingly satisfied.

"You're both going to probably die," Dwight said, strolling across the courtyard, Alpha in tow. "But we're going to start with the head-honcho himself. The boss. The one above all!"

"Go fuck a cactus, Dwight," Negan snarled.

"Whatever," Dwight rolled his eyes, standing over Negan and relishing in the fact that, for once, he could stare down at his former leader. He held Lucille against his shoulder and Negan was glaring, practically salivating with rage as Dwight handled his favorite weapon.

"I," Dwight said, "Am going to beat the holy hell out of you."

"I-" Turtle began.

"No, no," Dwight thrust Lucille half an inch from Turtle's face. "Don't say shit. Don't try and save him. Worry about yourself."

"You don't have to do this."

"I am," Dwight said nonchalantly. "And you're going to watch. Say goodbye to your baby-daddy one last time."

"Dwight," Turtle cried. She felt Negan reach out to grasp her hand. "Stop this. You aren't a cruel man. I know this isn't you. This was never you."

"You don't know shit about me.

As Dwight spoke, Turtle found herself staring at something behind him - at Daryl, more specifically. He was gesturing with his chin upward, towards the towering smokestack that had once spewed muck into the air.

Was that Sherry at its base?

It was. Sherry, Carson, and Eugene. And they were up to no good.

Turtle smiled. She met Daryl's gaze, and he lifted a finger to his lips just as an explosion sounded from inside the factory.

_Showtime._


	34. Danger Zone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful crazytxgradstudent, who has not only given me tons of ideas and support for this story, but is also a fantastic author herself!

"What the fuck was that?" Dwight stopped mid swing, eyes shooting towards the interior of the compound. Alpha whipped around, eyes wide.

A sudden sweep of dust and dirt nearly swept them all off their feet as the rooftop of the west corner of the compound collapsed. Turtle heard screaming from within and the pounding of feet against concrete as, behind her, Rick and his group scattered, drawing hidden guns and opening fire on the unsuspecting Whisperers.

"Son of a bitch!" Dwight cursed. "Going back on your word, Rick? Very honorable of you!"

Turtle stood. Negan followed, lashing out and kicking Dwight in the stomach. Dwight, stunned, lashed out with Lucille but missed.

"Turtle!" Jesus was darting through the chaos. "Let's go!"

Turtle reached out to grasp Negan as he lashed out at Dwight again. Over his shoulder Turtle saw Beta, covered in grime, approaching.

_"Let's go!"_

An earsplitting groan sounded from the sky. Dwight stopped and Turtle stopped and for a moment, everyone was looking towards the source of the sound.

Sherry, Carson, and Eugene were backing away from the smokestack, watching, before turning and making a run for the latter. The mortar was cracking and the steel beans were beginning to cave, pulled from their moorings.

"Cmon!" Jesus yelled again, far more urgently this time. "Let's move!"

"Negan, leave him. Leave _her_ ," Turtle grabbed his arm, pulling him away. Beta was getting closer, his strides long and persistent. "You can't fight with your hands behind your back!"

"I've fucking done it before!"

"Not like this!" Turtle screamed through the sounds of clashing and gunfire. Jesus was there, suddenly, tugging on her shirt as, up above, the smokestack groaned once more and began to tilt, a thunderous sound combined with the twisting and groaning of metal. Turtle watched, almost mesmerized, as a chunk of concrete fell and crushed a Whisperer, like a boot against a bug.

Turtle ran. Negan ran, tugged along. He kept looking over his shoulder as Dwight, gripping Lucille, face bloody, looked torn between going for Sherry or pursuing his escaping captives.

"Where's Sherry and Carson?"

"Going a different route! They'll be fine!" Jesus barked. They ducked behind a shattered car which bore the marks of a previous battle; the paint had been seared off from heat and the windows were destroyed. Out of the corner of her eye Turtle saw Michonne raise her sword and slice open the stomach of a rushing, skin-garbed Whisperer. She backed up, eyes wide as she looked upwards towards the compound.

With a huge crack and moan of concrete, metal, and wood, the smokestack tipped and collapsed. The impact crushed those beneath it, shattering bones and crushing skulls. Alpha narrowly avoided being crushed by a metal beam, and she leaped back, ducking for cover as debris began to fall like deadly rain.

"Holy shit."

Dwight spun. Turtle saw Sherry emerge from around the compound. She skidded to a halt, meeting Dwight's gaze.

Sherry had three seconds to gaze upon her ex-husband before a slab of concrete drove Dwight's head into the dirt.

His entire body twitched before going limp, like a marionette with it's strings suddenly cut. Blood began seeping from beneath the concrete that held his face against the ground.

Dwight's fingers were twitching just a bit, and they fell still, curled like that of a dead spider.

"Shit," Turtle cursed, feeling Negan's arm around her. Jesus shook his head.

"Let's go. We don't need to see what's left after all this settles."  
~ ~ ~  
Alexandria was eerily quiet when they returned. The surviving Saviors - Sherry, Negan, and Turtle sat together, huddled, faces covered in blood and sweat and in Sherry's case, tears.

Carson had been killed during the escape - stabbed by Alpha.

They were the last three. It hadn't struck Turtle, really, that the rest of the original Saviors, the group Negan had fought so hard to control and discipline and lead, were either dead or had run away into the unknown.

The scales had been tipped in a matter of days.

"You can stay here for the night," Rick told them. "Tomorrow, figure out what your going to do, where you're gonna go."

"Alpha is still out there," Turtle said, closing the door behind her. Negan leaned against the car, eyes focused on his own blood splattered boots. "The Whisperers are still out there. We have to do something. We have to fight."

"Fighting the unknown didn't go well for us, last time. It's over, Turtle."

"Not for us, and certainly not for you. Alpha will come after this place, this community," Turtle gestured to the beautiful pond, the houses and the seemingly impenetrable wall that had protected Alexandria for so long. "You can't run away from this."

"Running will keep us safe," Rick hissed.

"Will it? Where will you run? You can't avoid this. You aren't a drifter anymore," Turtle snapped. "You're the leader of a community. These walls, they're keeping you here. If you don't fight, you die."

"I know that."

"You saved us, Rick. Why?"

"Sherry begged us. Jesus begged us - for you. He wanted to do it for you. So did Daryl."

"Not for me, right?" Negan suddenly said. "Ya'll fucking hate me. You want me dead, still. Is that why you won't let us help you?"

"People hold grudges," Rick snarled. Negan pushed himself away from the car, standing tall behind Turtle. Rick added, "But we can put them aside. Momentarily."

"I'm not asking for your fucking forgiveness, Rick. That's the last fucking thing I want from you."

"You understand why he did what he did," Turtle said. "I we understand why you did what you did, to us. That's how it has to work now. I can't risk anything less, not for me or my child."

Rick's eyes traveled to her stomach. He coughed, avoiding Negan's hard gaze.

"How far along are you?"

"A few weeks. I'm not sure…it wasn't planned."

"Well, we don't have a doctor here. She was killed by your people. We're making with what we have," Rick pulled his coat tighter. "Maggie is over at Hilltop - Glenn and Jesus are making a trip in a few days. They have a doctor there-"

"Harlan," Turtle said. "Yeah. He helped when I lost my arm."

"You need to be somewhere there's a doctor," Negan said from behind her. "Hate to admit it, but Rick here is onto something."

"Alpha will have to recover," Rick said. "That buys us some time."

"Rick-"

"We're going," Negan interrupted, one hand curling around Turtle's shoulder. "Don't be stubborn, Tessa."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Rick's mouth. He nodded, saying, "Sherry spoke with Daryl, and she's staying here."

"She can do what she wants," Negan shrugged. "She isn't a wife anymore. My wife is right here. See the fuckin' ring?"

Rick looked torn between staying silent and speaking. Finally, he just shook his head and said, "Best of luck to you," he reached out and, hesitantly, Negan took it.

"Love the hospitality, Rick. Can't believe I once thought about killing you."


	35. Blue

"Can you fuck while pregnant?" Negan asked that night. They'd been offered a spare home for the night, towards the very back of Alexandria. It was a smaller house, two bedroom, two bath and a nice little kitchen. It was almost too cozy for Turtle's liking, far different than the parlor and factory she'd come to know as home.

All that was gone. All that was gone and she'd accepted it.

Now, she sat on the couch, in a nightgown she'd borrowed from the previous owner of the home - it clung to her thin frame, gently outlining her belly, which seemed to fascinate Negan. He sat next to her, one hand gently splayed across her stomach, as if awaiting a bump of kick even though it was far too early for that.

"Yes, you can. I'm not even that far along," Turtle laughed. "You won't be able to feel anything for a little while."

"I can't fucking believe we're alive. Both us," Negan said slowly.

"Are you doing okay?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Negan replied quickly. He shook his head. "I just wanna fucking...focus on her. Or him. Although I'm pretty sure it's a her."

"I mean, you have a fifty percent chance of being right."

Negan sighed and leaned back, still keeping a palm on her belly. "Goddamn," he said suddenly. "I'm going to be a fucking father. Holy shit."

"Yeah. You are. And you're going to be an excellent father," Turtle sat on her knees, reaching out to run fingers through his hair. She kissed his forehead gently as he rested his head against her chest.

Negan inhaled before saying softly, "Um. Do you want to fuck?"

"Ah," Turtle rolled her eyes, sliding from the couch, toying with the hem of her nightgown. She cheekily lifted it up past her hips, revealing her panties and making a show of strutting her way towards the bedroom, hips swinging. "You coming?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I fucking am."  
~ ~ ~

"Oh you have no idea how long I've fucking missed you," Negan's voice was far off, but still loud and dripping with need. He was being gentle with her, one hand stroking Turtle's back while the other held her hips firm, rubbing against her skin, sliding beneath her to fondle her breasts and pinch her nipples.Turtle;s screams were muffled by the pillow, her face turned to the side. He drove into her from behind, and Turtle could feel nothing but _him._

And it was glorious. He leaned forward, gently curling a hand around her throat. His kisses against her shoulder were insistent, hungry. She rolled over and he was there, peering down at her, lips parted as he was finally able to kiss her fully on the mouth. Between kisses and touches and squeezes and groans, whispered words were spoken. 

_"I love you. I fucking love you so much."_

"I know, I know. I love you too."

_Don't you ever forget that._

"What if it's a boy?" Turtle mumbled later on, curled against Negan's bare chest. The bed was unbelievable warm and cozy and soft - for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she felt relaxed, at ease. Negan's hands were playing with her hair, which was now beginning to creep past her jawline. She glanced up at him, scooting so that she could look directly into his eyes. She tugged the blankets around her naked body, doe eyes staring longingly at her lover.

"Name him Frank or something. I don't fucking know."

Turtle rolled her eyes, giving him a playful shove. "No," she chuckled. "What about your family?"

"I was one of two kids. My brother's name was William."

"Father?"

"…Was an asshole," Negan frowned. "I didn't get lucky like you."

"What about…" Turtle bit her lip. "Did you ever have any kids before this? Before the world ended?"

"No."

"Were you married?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I was. She got really sick, though. Didn't make it. It wasn't even the virus that killed her," Negan gave a dry, almost forced laugh, as if he was trying to make the entire situation comical. "Life's a bitch, isn't it?"

"Trust me, I know."

"I loved her, and I love you. I never thought you could fucking love someone twice but…here I am. I've been having shitty nightmares about you getting hurt, me not being able to do a goddamn thing."

"I've had those. You see the people you couldn't protect, every time you close your eyes at night. And you're scared-"

"I'm not scared," Negan said quickly.

"You're scared, Negan. I know you are - you don't have to lie," Turtle sat up, blankets clutched to her bare chest. She stared down at him, shoulders slumping. "I don't remember how I felt, when it was all happening. It's all foggy and distant. Sometimes, when I think about it, its like I'm someone else, you know? Watching. I don't have any scars or marks from it but I can feel it, all the time."

"You think that shit'll happen to me?" Negan stared at her through heavy lids. He reached out and lightly touched her severed arm, which ended just a little bit below the elbow. The flesh there was raw and rugged, discolored from when someone - either Dwight or Negan - had cauterized the wound.

That moment itself seemed as if it were hundreds of years ago, when in reality, she sometimes felt like the limb was still there and mobile.

But it wasn't. It never would be.

"You'll feel it, soon," Turtle said, her voice hollow. "You can't push it away or run from it."

"It's already fucking here," Negan groaned, running a hand down his face. He let out a breath, looking torn between falling back asleep and spilling his feelings. "That's why I wanted to fuck you. I had to fucking see if...if I could still want you. And I do, I fucking do, but.."

"It's not the same," Turtle finished.

"I'm afraid."

"I know."

"I'm fucking really afraid, Tessa. Like, shitting-my-pants afraid. I'm afraid I'll break and hurt you somehow-"

"You won't," Turtle said quickly. "I know you won't."

Negan nodded, sighing. Turtle laid back down, leaned over, and pressed her lips against his, her thumb brushing against his cheek. She peered down at him, murmuring against his mouth.

"I love you. And…no matter what happens, I'm here for you. I always will be."

"Do you have nightmares still?"

"Yeah. All the time."

Negan rolled onto his back, chest heaving as he let out a long breath and stared up at the ceiling. Turtle planted a few gentle kisses against his shoulder, closing her eyes.

"It'll be okay, for now," Turtle breathed. "I believe that. I really do, and I feel _good."_


	36. Aries

Turtle's stomach grew and grew and grew. So did Maggie's - she was the unofficial leader of Hilltop, now, having displaced a weak Gregory with nothing more than a few words. The man became recluse, but still active, still commanding.

Just…nobody listened.

Maggie's son was born in the middle of the night - Turtle was woken by her cries. Much to Negan's protests she'd roused and had crept over to Harlan's.

She had to see what it would be like. She had to.

Hours and hours of hard labor left Maggie tired, bloody, and rugged - Glenn was no better. Running low on sleep, he'd stayed up to watch the birth of his son - Hershel — before crashing on Harlan's couch.

It was a disgusting, beautiful, enthralling experience that left Turtle at peace. She touched a hand to her stomach as she lay next to Negan. They'd been given a spare room inside the glorious home that had once been a history museum. Now it housed Glenn, Maggie, Negan, Turtle, and occasionally Gregory, when he wasn't feeling humble. And sometimes, Carl and a pretty girl named Enid, whom Turtle had only spoken to a handful of times. That was only when they came to visit.

They'd had six months of relative peace, and Hershel's birth was the pinnacle of it all. The result.

Something different and new.

"I brought you some soup," Turtle eased the door to Maggie's room open. She was nursing, lying on the bed, blankets hugging her form tight. She raised her eyebrows, a grin splitting across her face.

"Set it over there. Carol brought cookies, if you want some."

"Sugar is the last thing I need," Turtle laughed, setting down the soup. "This is vegetable soup. I hope you like it."  
"My mother used to make that," Maggie said softly. "It's my favorite."

"Same," Turtle chuckled. She met Maggie's soft gaze, and quickly looked away. Part of her wanted to scurry away - memories if their first encounter flashes across her mind. She'd been pregnant then, and they'd tied her up like an animal.

"I forgive you, you know," Maggie said suddenly, having noticed her hesitance. "I'm not angry. Not anymore. I can't be."

"Anger only drags you down," Turtle replied. "But you have every right to be angry, and you had every right to turn Negan and I both away. You're stronger than I am - I would have never been able to do what you did."

"Pull up a chair," Maggie shifted a bit as Turtle obeyed, sitting slowly, still adjusting to the additional weight against her belly. "You know, you never told me what you're gonna name your son or daughter."

"If it's a girl, Susan. After my sister," Turtle answered, smiling a bit. "If it's a boy, William. After Negan's older brother. Where'd Hershel come from?"

"My father," Maggie said sullenly. "You and him would'a gotten along. Found some common ground - he was all about peace. And," Maggie trailed off into a chuckle, shaking her head. "He lost his foot."

Turtle laughed. "Man, we do have a lot in common," Turtle raised her bum arm. "It's strange. Being all about peace and being with Negan. Not that he can't be peaceful it's just that…well, who I am to judge. There have been plenty of times when peace was the last thing on my mind."

"We've all done things, had things happen to us-"

"Yeah, when is it all enough? That's what I wonder about and worry about."

Maggie face fell and Hershel cooed lightly in her arms. "Negan. This is about him."

"Beta, Alpha's second in command, raped him. Right in front of me and Dwight. I don't know what's worse - the humiliation or the marks Beta left on his back," Turtle sighed. "And now, he's changed. He's…different. Still crude and inappropriate but different. Quieter, less observant. Kinda like he's dazed all the time, doesn't know where he is. Or who he is."

"Does he talk about it?"

"Of course not. I didn't talk about…" Turtle stopped. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a breath. "My experience. I had the same thing happen to me. It happened to my sister, too. A bunch of men broke into out house, murdered my family. Negan saved me - helped kill those men. That's how we met."

Maggie nodded, holding Hershel tight. "Maybe he's afraid. He's not the type to admit anything."

"Oh, he's afraid. And he's admitted it. I just don't know what to do. People react differently - some run, some try and forget, some just let it hit them like a train."

"What did you do?"

"I'm trying to forget. I can't, but I'm trying. And it's not good, and I see them every night when I close my eyes. Feel their hands on me, their breath. I want to kill them, you know. But they're already dead and those faces? I have to tell myself that it's all just a memory."

Maggie nodded slowly. "There are things I want to forget, but can't. And it's changed me and, honestly…" Maggie sighed. She leaned back, guilt crossing her features. "I can't decide if I'd choose this life over the old way of life. Crazy, right? But you know, maybe I would have never met Glenn. Maybe I would have never had this baby. But my father, my sister, they'd still be alive."

"I think it's different for Negan," Turtle said softly. "Things were shitty for him. William - his brother - was killed during a drug deal six years before the outbreak happened. His wife was dying when everything went to shit. I think he embraced this world. It was a fresh start, for him. And now, he's regretting it."

"Does he regret what he did? To us? To our group?"

"I don't know," Turtle sighed. "I mean, I tell myself everyday that Negan killing those men, the men who murdered my family, was the right thing. I don't regret it, and I never will. Neither does Negan. But you…I think he felt forced to do something. The reason we kill first is to send a message."

"What if you don't have to kill first?"

"Then I guess Negan feels as if he isn't asserting dominance. Maybe he wanted to try something different, but he didn't want to appear weak. There are men out there with his charisma, with his strength and brutality."

"Trust me, I know."

Turtle nodded. "He did it out of fear. That's all he could do. And whether or not he regrets it is up to him. I won't be angry if he doesn't."

"Others might be," Maggie said, stone cold. "Rick might be."

"And if Rick doesn't want us around, we'll leave. Our days of causing trouble are over. Me, Negan and Sherry are what's left of an empire. No sense in fighting back cause we're outnumbered."

"You're welcome here, Turtle. Glenn agrees. Jesus agrees. Everyone else will have to make do," Maggie smiled. "We're putting all this behind us. The war, everything. Plus, we have another baby to focus on."

Turtle touched her bulging belly, laughing. "Negan think's its going to be a girl."

"Huh," Maggie tilted her head. "Either one is going to be a handful."

"In this world? Definitely. Little Hershel will at least have someone his age," Turtle said. "If we stick around that long."

"I hope you do stick around. I think you're a great addition to the community."

"Thank you," Turtle said softly, glancing at the ground.

"No, thank you. Especially for the company, and the soup."  
~ ~ ~

When Turtle awoke the next morning, Negan was gone from her side. He'd left an indentation in the mattress, having removed one hand from Turtle's stomach sometime in the middle of the night. She'd slept through it, her entire body sore and exhausted.

Damn. He could be quiet when he wanted to be.

Turtle had dismissed it at first, rolling out of bed, dressing, and entering the hallway. Glenn was already up, still half asleep and sitting on the staircase. Turtle had slept through Hershel's cries, and Glenn had not.

"You on baby duty?" Turtle asked, standing on the staircase next to him. He glanced up and nodded, eyes tired. "Did Negan come by here?"

"No. I haven't seen him. He's not in the kitchen either - I was just there."

"He doesn't like roaming around," Turtle said, frowning. She made her way down the stairs, hearing Glenn follow behind her, his bare feet padding lightly against the wooden floorboards. She glanced behind her and said, "And he's not exactly subtle."

"Trust me, if I knew where he was, I'd tell you," Glenn shoved a lock of hair from in front of his eyes. "Maybe he went for a walk or something?"

"He hates walks," Turtle shoved the front doors of the home open, squinting as the rising sun hit her. Hilltop was awfully quiet this time of morning, and there was a cool breeze wafting through the enclosed compound.

"Where is he?"

"Not here."

Turtle jumped. Jesus matched her strides, tugging on his beanie and adjusting his gloves. They stopped at the gate, seemingly at a loss for words, until Jesus finally spoke.

"He's gone, Tess. Must'v snuck out last night. Someone - maybe Harlan - saw him go. He was too afraid to stop him because he looked angry."

"We didn't have a fight or anything," Turtle said, her heart skipping - there was absolutely no way he'd ditch out on her and his own child. That just wasn't him. Not after everything that they'd been through together.

"He'll come back, I'm sure," Glenn said. "Don't worry."

"He's not just roaming the woods. I know he's not - he has to have a reason. He wants something," Turtle narrowed her eyes. "Something important. Maybe just as important as I am."

Lucille.

Of fucking course.

"Son of a bitch," Turtle breathed. "I'll fucking kill him," at Glenn and Jesus's confused looks, she said louder, "He's going after his bat. Lucille."

"He dropped that thing back at Sanctuary," Jesus said. "That guy, Dwight, had it in his hand last. If it's even still there, it's ten feet away from the Whisperers. Does he not realize that?"

"He does and he probably doesn't care. This is Negan we're talking about," Turtle replied. "And that kind of stupidity gets you killed. Goddammit. I'm going-"

"No you are not," Jesus grabbed Turtle's arm before she could spin on her heels and storm towards the armory. "No. You're staying here while Glenn and I go."

"No. Not after - you don't have to do that. This is our problem-"

"Tessa," Jesus said slowly. His words were soft, his gaze steady. He was the only person, so far, other than Negan that had been allowed to use her real name. "We will bring him back to you. You need to stay here."

"He's right," Glenn said. "We'll bring him back. He couldn't have gotten far, especially if he's on foot."

"Unless he finds a car," Turtle snapped.

"Yeah. But we can find a car, too," Glenn reached out and grasped her hand. "Just stay here with Maggie. Rest up. I promise we'll come back."

"All _three_ of you. Nothing less," Turtle said, keeping her tears at bay.

Glenn glanced at Jesus, who nodded.

"We promise. Nothing less."


	37. Election Year

Glenn and Jesus did not return the next morning. Turtle kept her thoughts to herself, spending more time with Maggie than anyone else - Hilltop still had yet to warm up to her. Even with the absence of Negan, she was stared at as if she were some sort of alien. The only thing keeping people curious was the baby slowly growing bigger and bigger inside her.

"Gregory is stirring up trouble," Maggie said, cradling Hershel in her arms. Turtle was sitting on the living room couch, staring into the empty fireplace. She had a hand over her belly - a habit, now. It was either her or Negan, feeling for kicks or any other movements.

"When is he not?" Turtle answered. Maggie shrugged, offering Turtle a glass of water. Turtle took it, sipping softly, eyes moving to the window. Outside, she could see Gregory speaking with Harlan, his posture slouched, hands on his hips. Turtle added, "Maybe he's just making friends. Being social. He can do stuff like that, I guess. Now that he's with the common folk."

"This is something else. I heard him last night, talking with some of Ethan's old friends, along with Andy - remember them? First day my people walked through these gates, Rick sliced open Ethan's throat."

"He tried to kill me," Turtle sipped her water as Maggie stared at her. "I guess I deserved it, though."

"Gregory is smart. I think…these people still trust him. Look up to him."

"They've gotta learn - you're the leader now, via unanimous decision making. May not be as good as the old election process, but it'll work."

"For now."

"Keep your head high. These people respect you, value you. You and Glenn both - you wouldn't be living in this house if those people didn't think that you deserved it," Turtle could only slightly lean forward due to her bulging belly. "If he tries anything, I'll deal with him."

"You're really pregnant, Turtle," Maggie chuckled and Hershel cooed as he began to drift into sleep. "I don't think you're in any condition to fight for me."

"It's the thought that counts," Turtle craned her neck, peering out the window once more. "Señor Suspenders is coming to the door. Should we pretend we're not here?"

"Where else would be be?"

"Grocery shopping."

"Why have you suddenly gained a sense of humor?"

"I mean, my husband is gone, probably dead. Probably died for a stupid reason, too. Now I may have to raise this child alone because the father couldn't fucking wait five goddamn seconds to talk to me. All that's pretty sick, right? And you know the best medicine for that, right?"

Maggie pursed her lips, gently rocking a dozing Hershel. "Glenn and Jesus will bring him back in one piece."

"They'd better. All three of them need to come back. I told them that," Turtle sighed. "I'm tired of losing people, and I'm sure you are, too."

Gregory was knocking on the door, his fists hard against the wood. Hershel stirred as Maggie, gesturing for Turtle to remain seated, opened it and greeted Gregory with a forced grin.

"I need to speak with you, privately," Gregory said, his eyes traveling towards Turtle. He tore his gaze away when Turtle raised her eyebrows. "Now."  
~ ~ ~ 

That night, and for the second night, Turtle slept alone. She lay on her back, eyes wide open, staring up at the ceiling. The room felt huge without Negan's presence, and she knew Maggie was most likely feeling the same way due to Glenn's absence.

They were two tired fools. Women who could do nothing but wait and pray and hope.

The moon was still out, and the sounds of footsteps and material hitting her window awoke her. A beam of light travelled through her room, illuminating everything. Groggily, Turtle stood, hearing Hershel began to cry as the noises increased in volume. She heard shouts and curses and by the time Turtle had rolled out of bed, wrapping a robe around her body, Maggie was downstairs, a wailing Hershel held tightly against her.

"Who the fuck?" Turtle rubbed her eyes, waddling and matching Maggie pace. They threw open the doors and were greeted by flashlights and half dressed Hilltop citizens. Not everyone, but a good amount of them Turtle had come to recognize. Ethan's wife was at the forefront, along with a few other men. Harlan and Andy were absent, and Turtle saw them staggering from their trailers, alarmed.

"Get behind me," Maggie murmured. Turtle hesitated at first, but Maggie's firm look caused her obey and slide towards the doorway. Loudly, Maggie said, "We can have a civil conversation, or you can all go back to bed."

Turtle saw Gregory pushing through the crowd, dressed in his own sleepwear - as if somehow, he'd been surprised by the dedication. Turtle's lips curled upwards and she snarled.

"You're harboring a killer, Maggie!" Gregory spat. "We know about Howard! We know what this wretch did-"

Turtle opened her mouth to reply, but Maggie stopped her. "Jesus can vouch for her, Gregory. She was defending herself!"

"She and Jesus are buddy-buddy. We can't trust him anymore. This community can't trust him - look where he is now! Out saving a psychopath!"

The crowd murmured in agreement. Turtle saw that one of the Hilltop residents carried a machete.

"What's done is done. That was five months ago," Maggie said coldly. "We're putting the past behind us!"

"That's what you said. Thats not what the people here said," Gregory said slyly. "And I was all for the people. I respect that they had a change of opinion, but maybe someone else should be running this place."

"Can't you let anything go?" Turtle shouted. "You'd send a pregnant woman out to die in the woods?"

"We took her in for a reason," Maggie added. "I wasn't happy about it at first. She's hurt us. Negan has hurt us. But this girl also stopped what could have been a war. You all owe her that."

The crowd fell silent. Some people looked shaken while others were holding on to whatever rage they had left. They had all rallied behind Gregory, who stood tall and firm and proud.

He'd done this.

"You have to make a choice, Maggie," Gregory said, clicking his tongue. "Her, or us."

"It doesn't have to be like that," Turtle exclaimed. "Negan and I have surrendered. It's over. No one has to go anywhere-"

The screech of the front gates to Hilltop opening stopped Turtle. She stood on the steps of the old house, staring out over the crowd.

Maggie saw them, first, limping through the darkness.

"Glenn?"

Glenn and Jesus supported Negan between them. In Jesus's left hand was Lucille. Negan's pant leg was torn, and he'd lost a boot. Blood dripped down his exposed ankle and onto the grass.

Turtle, eyes wide, found herself walking down the stairs, Maggie in tow. The crowd parted, slowly, some reluctant. Turtle reached Negan, his lips having a hard time scowling and she realized that the damage to his leg was minor, and he seemed more exhausted than in any pain.

Oh, how she wanted to slap him.

"You're a fucking idiot."

"Gee, hello to you too," Negan said. He lifted his head, staring at her with his dark eyes. "Sorry I'm fucking late to dinner. And what the fuck is this - why are all these pricks out so late?"

"First off, it about three in the morning, and secondly, they were all going back to bed," Turtle said loudly, shooting a glare in Gregory's direction, watching as the crowd began to disperse. "I'm so pissed at you."

"Same."

Glenn and Jesus helped Negan walk toward's Harlan's trailer, which was alit and ready as Harlan had been watching the confrontation from afar. He quickly embraced Jesus, then Glenn, before taking a look at Negan's leg.

Maggie and Turtle followed. Immediately, Negan's hand shot out to touch her protruding stomach. He sighed and Turtle squeezed his hand, not speaking, just watching.

Jesus was doing the same, smiling.

"That's a knife wound," Harlan said. "The hell were you doing?"

"Getting his bat," Turtle answered. Negan nodded in agreement, though it wasn't a proud nod. "And he succeeded. All for a stupid bat."

"That bat has saved both of our fucking lives," Negan growled.

"No, _you've_ saved both of our lives. That bat isn't alive. You don't need her the way I need you."

"How would you fucking know, huh?"

Turtle reeled back at his bitterness. He was baring his teeth in anger, though his hand still rested against her belly.

"It's not very deep," Harlan said. "You got lucky. It'll just be a light bandage and you should be walking fine in a week or so."

"Thank you," Turtle said softly. She felt Maggie's hand on her shoulder - off in the corner, Glenn was cradling Hershel, a look of renewed joy on his features. Jesus stood off to the side in silence, and, as they began to exit, Turtle hugged him.

"And thank you," she whispered. Jesus nodded, holding her for a few moments before assisting Negan as he limped towards the door. When Negan was out of earshot, she murmured, "I'll talk with him. See what's up. He doesn't need to be running off like this."

"Please do. I can't lose another night of sleep."

"You won't. You kept your promise of coming back alive, so I'll keep mine."


	38. Conquistadors

"I'm still pissed at you," Turtle mumbled, feeling Negan's breath against her throat, his lips covering her pulse as he lay next to her, one forearm braced next her head. He peered down at her, grinned, before ducking and pressing kisses against her jawline. "You aren't getting shit from me."

"Aw, fuck. You didn't miss me?"

"It was really quiet, for once," Turtle fought to keep from smiling. Negan kissed her once more, tugging at her lower lip with his teeth. The hair on his face scratched at her skin, and Turtle sighed. "Also, you need to shave."

"I know."

Turtle ran a hand across his bare chest, fingers tracing patterns against his skin. Maggie and Glenn had retired for the night, which left Negan and Turtle on the couch downstairs, the only glow coming from the two lanterns mounted on the coffee table before them. Negan had spent most of the day at Harlan's, almost avoiding Turtle, allowing her to instigate the affection.

That wasn't at all normal. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was caution as the baby inside her grew to its fullest.

"Yes, I'm pissed. But I'm glad you're safe. You owe it to Jesus and Glenn."

"Don't fuckin' remind me. It's fucking embarrassing," Negan rolled his eyes. "That Asian kid wouldn't shut the fuck up-"

"His name is Glenn, and he's asleep upstairs," Turtle snapped. "And you deserved it, probably. With how much you talk?"

Negan's lips covered hers once more as he slid up closer, nuzzling into her cheek. Turtle couldn't help but laugh as his facial hair tickled her nose. She returned his kisses with hunger, moaning at his soft touches and squeezes.

"I wasn't gonna fuckin' die, dollface," Negan whispered.

"You came back with a knife wound, and you expect me to believe that?" Turtle raised her eyebrows. "Could have, would have. Did you even think about me or this baby-"

"I did. I did, and I made a choice. A fucking stupid choice. But I felt like I had to, I needed to."

"For her?"

"For us. I feel safer, now."

"Safe, because she's with you? We're behind walls, Negan. We have a competent leader, food, water, medicine. We have two other communities on our side. We're safer now than we ever have been."

"Don't be naive."

"I know what danger is," Turtle lifted her bum arm. "If I feel safe, you should feel safe."

"But I don't. I didn't."

Turtle nodded. She let him rest his forehead against hers. She sucked in a breath, taking in his closeness.

"I'm worried about you. I love you, and I can't lose you."

"You won't lose me."

"I feel like I am. Or I'm going to."

Negan stroked her hair gingerly, his movements shaky. "Fuck…fucking fuck," he squeezed his eyes shut. "I know I fucked up. I know what I did was fucking stupid, but I couldn't fucking help it. I felt like I'd go batshit insane if I didn't go after her-"

"Do you really feel safer, Negan, or are you just saying that? Do you feel like someone is behind you, during the day, even if no one is there? Do you feel his hands on you-"

"Stop. Fucking stop," Negan growled, the sound low in his chest.

"I still feel those men touching me."

"Tessa," Negan whined. He allowed Turtle to wrap her arms around him, lips pressing gently against his forehead.

"You don't have to forget it or push it away, or move past it. You have to…accept it, almost. And I'm one to talk, because it still sometimes feels like I just can't…but you helped me. You let me in."

"I should have done that shit sooner."

"Letting people in is dangerous," Turtle whispered against his skin. "It always has been. You were - and you still are - afraid. And that's alright."

Negan sighed. Lucille was up in their room, back to her rightful place leaning against the wall on Negan's side of the bed. A part of Turtle wanted that weapon smashed, destroyed.

It meant something to him. Something profound. Turtle tried not to let her emotions get ahead of that fact.

"If you ever want to talk," Turtle murmured. "Tell me. I'm not going to force you. Just…remember how much I love you. How much this baby is going to love you."

Negan placed a hand against her stomach. Almost as if on cue, the child moved, little feet straining against Turtle's belly and making brief contact with Negan's splayed palm.

When Turtle glanced down, Negan was grinning. And it was raw and real and wonderful.  
~ ~ ~  
"Gregory has to be killed," Maggie said solemnly. She'd assembled a quick council with Jesus, Glenn, Turtle and Negan. Hershel was asleep on a blanket, so they kept their voices low.

"Fucking finally," Negan huffed. "Should have let me done that ages ago. I've been after that prick since day fucking one."

"He tried to poison me."

Turtle perked up immediately, nearly leaping to her feet. "When was this?"

"About two months ago. Glenn and I didn't tell anyone - I saw Gregory pour in the liquid. I had to make an excuse that I was allergic to basil."

"Is that why you made him move from the house? He used to be in our room," Turtle said. "That bastard."

"Murdering a pregnant woman….that's fucking low," Negan growled.

"You threatened to do it," Glenn murmured.

"Hey, I didn't fucking know she was knocked up then. I thought she just had the fucking flu or whatever," Negan rolled his eyes. "You are so goddamn sensitive."

Before Glenn could retort, Turtle said, "After that stint he pulled a few nights ago…I don't know. Does he have followers, or are people just angry?"

"Both, probably," Jesus said. "Maggie, I don't like this-"

"Hang on," Negan interrupted. "Miss Dorothy here is onto something. Holy shit, she's a genius! Murder the asshole who tried to murder me - an original plan if I've ever fucking heard one. But, here's the question - then what? Are these people gonna shove a box of fireworks up our dickholes and blow us into outer space, or are they going to bend over and let us fuck them?"

"Sometimes I wish my vernacular was as articulate as yours," Jesus said dryly, shooting Negan the side-eye. "By 'bend over and let us fuck them' you mean submit, right?"

"Absolutely. Sometimes it's literal but it depends on the setting."

"These people, the members of this community…will they stand for that? Even the people on your side-"

"They don't have to know."

"Not a good pitch. That translates into 'they'll definitely find the fuck out in about three weeks.'" Negan rolled his eyes.

"Glenn?" Turtle spoke towards the man, who was staring at his child, asleep on the blankets. He almost hesitated to answer.

"We can make it work."

Turtle pinched the bridge of her nose. Absently, she stroked her stomach. Maggie watched, lips pursed. On the blanket, Hershel stirred, but fell silent.

"We'll follow your lead, Maggie. You're in charge," Turtle said softly. Jesus sighed, but nodded in agreement.

"Good. Good," Maggie let out a breath. "I'll do it myself. Nobody else needs to get dragged into this."

"I'll help," Turtle murmured. "You shouldn't have to do it alone."

"Tessa-,"

"No, Negan," Turtle stopped her partner before he could intervene. "This is my decision. Maggie shouldn't have to carry this alone. Mother to, well, soon-to-be mother," Turtle glanced down at a sleeping Hershel and smiled. "I owe it to her."

"Fuck," Negan grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So how are you doing this?"

Maggie smiled. It wasn't a happy smile.

"I have some ideas."


	39. All Hail Lady Macbeth

They waited until the rest of Hilltop had gone to sleep. Maggie crept out first, careful not to wake her sleeping husband or her child. She roused Turtle in the middle of the night, gently shaking her awake.

Turtle took longer to roll out of bed - Negan shifted, but remained asleep. With Maggie's help she slid on her shoes and slowly made her way down the stairs, hot on Maggie's heels.

Turtle trotted with a slight waddle, though faster than normal - she was used to the excess weight, now, and used to waking up in the middle of the night. The pee breaks had become more and more common. Negan jokingly cursed their child for waking him.

Gregory's trailer was in the farthest part of Hilltop, next to the wall - the doors didn't lock, and Gregory was alone. He was a heavy sleeper, Maggie had told Turtle. It wouldn't take much to subdue him.

He'd left his lantern on. It was beginning to die out, the embers fluttering, casting shallow light. Gregory lay on his cot, breathing heavily, but asleep.

Immediately, Turtle felt sick. It wasn't a pregnancy-induced sickness, but a sickness of the soul. Guilt, eating away at her. Guilt and anger as she stared at the man who'd made an attempt to murder Maggie - her friend. He deserved it, didn't he? And he wouldn't stop. He'd kill Turtle, eventually. Then Maggie and, if he could help it, baby Hershel.

This had to be done.

"Didn't Rick murder my people like this?" Turtle said softly. "In their sleep."

Maggie didn't reply. She'd pulled a dagger from her belt, and her face had become pale as she and Turtle both stood next to Gregory's sleeping form.

"You did," Turtle said, her voice hollow. "I remember."

"You should leave. Go back to sleep," Maggie said softly.

"No," Turtle replied. "I need to do this."

"Why?" Maggie murmured. "This isn't for you. This isn't your struggle."

"I want to do it. I need too - you can't be the one to kill him, Maggie. You just can't," Turtle hissed. "It has to be me. Just…trust me. Give me the knife."

Reluctantly, Maggie slid the knife to Turtle. She gripped it's hilt, stepping closer to Gregory - close enough that she could see his eyes twitch beneath his lids as he snored.

Before Maggie could say another word, Turtle did it. With an almost angry grunt she slid the knife into Gregory's heart, the blade connecting with a loud squelching sound. His eyes shot open and he gasped, blood filling his lungs. Turtle stabbed him again, her motions more furious this time, and she found herself stabbing him and stabbing him even after he'd died. Stabbing him angrily until the blood flowed onto his cot and onto the floor and onto her hands.

Stabbing until she felt her nails pierce her own skin as she gripped the hilt of the dagger. Stabbing until she felt tears in the corners of her eyes.

She thrust the blade into Gregory's skull, finally. She left it lodged in the side of his head.

Everything, even Gregory's gurgles and noises, had been a whisper. The room remained oddly silent.

"You're too selfless," Maggie whispered, staring at Gregory's corpse, frozen in place. "That's what you are. And that's what going to get you killed."

Turtle ignored her.

"You're selfless because you want to die," Maggie continued. "Is that why? You're going to take the blame for this, aren't you?"

"You should go to sleep."

"No," Maggie growled. "Why, Tessa-"

"Turtle-"

"No, it's Tessa. That's your name. That's who you are," Maggie gripped Turtle's shoulder. Her palm travelled to touch Turtle's blood-flecked cheek. "You shouldn't have done this."

"I had to do it for you."

"No, you didn't. You didn't have to do anything for me," Maggie said sadly. "We're putting the past behind us, remember? Starting over."

"I can't do that, yet. Not until…something happens."

"Not until you die, right?"

Turtle stifled a sudden wave of tears, giving in to Maggie's comforting touch. "I didn't plan on having this kid, Maggie. We weren't supposed to have a baby! A baby that's going to live in a world where we're forced to do things like this," she gestured to Gregory's corpse. "How am I supposed to tell my little boy or girl that their mommy is a murderer? That their daddy beats people heads in with a baseball bat? How am I supposed to tell them that both their parents are so damaged," Turtle bit her lower lip. "I'm selfless because I'm afraid. I try to make up for everything I do because one day it's going to catch up to me! It always does - you saw it, with Negan. We saw it with the Wolves. And now, the Whisperers."

Maggie nodded. "You know that I trust you, right?"

"After everything-"

"Yes. After everything that's happened," Maggie pulled Turtle into a hug. "I trust you. I have to."  
~ ~ ~  
_So much blood._

Rick arrived to the sight of a crowd the next day. Turtle saw him, striding up the hill, Carl in tow. She stood atop the steps of the lavish building she and Negan and called home for over six months.

Now, the residents had turned on them. They'd dragged Gregory's corpse from the trailer and onto the dirt.

Turtle's hands were washed but dried blood and crept its way beneath her nails. Negan had his hand on her shoulder protectively as the crowd got closer, some people yelling, others standing stoic, indifferent. One of the residents - Zane, if Turtle remembered correctly - had a shotgun. 

_"She has to go!"_

_"Both of them!"_

_"Maggie allowed it! She's just as guilty!"_

_No._

Maggie stood in the background, at a loss for words as Rick and Carl pushed their way through the crowd. Some ignored him while others leaped back in shock at his presence.

Turtle took a breath and said loudly, "It was me. It was my idea. He tried to poison Maggie while she was pregnant. He tried to kill her, and he was going to try it again. I stopped him."

_"She's sick."_

Turtle steeled herself. Felt Negan's grip on her tighten. He held Lucille in his opposite hand.

"Maggie had nothing to do with this," Turtle said, gesturing for Maggie to stay silent and still. The woman did, her eyes watery with premature tears. "I did what I had to do."

_"She - they - have to leave!"_

_"Get them out! They're dangerous!"_

Turtle met Rick's gaze. He stood at the front of the crowd, eyes wide. Negan was glaring at him, as if anticipating an attack of some sorts - verbal or nonverbal. Absently, Negan shifted and slightly put himself between Turtle and the murmuring crowd. He was watching Zane, mostly, eyes narrowed. The man wasn't holding the weapon correctly, and its barrel was pointing towards a very vulnerable Turtle and Maggie. 

"The fuck are you morons doing?" Negan growled. "Coming out here, looking for blood - so what I killed a couple of your guys? You killed a whole shitton of mine in return. Bottom fucking line is that it was in the fucking past and we all had our reasons. Goddamn sensitive little crybabies-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Zane barked. He was a the forefront of the crowd, weapon clutched tightly to his chest. From close up, Turtle saw how young he was - a teenager, still.

Negan wasn't intimidated. He rolled his eyes, glaring at the boy - well, more at the weapon he so foolishly wielded - before stepping a tad bit closer.

"Put down the gun, kid. Goddamn."

"I need it," Zane said simply, raising his voice. The crowd was on a hair trigger, listening intently. "To defend myself against crazy tyrants like you. I'm not scared of you." 

"Whatever. Put down the fucking gun, alright. Go home," Negan glanced at the crowd before speaking to Zane directly, his tone having shifted to something much darker. "You aren't even holding that shit right. Put it down." 

"Zane-" Maggie began.

"You're safe," Negan tried to grin but it came out forced. "I'm not the fucking boogey man anymore," his voice lowered. "Now put down the fucking gun. You wanna be responsible if that thing goes off and kills Maggie? Or hits my pregnant wife?"

Zane growled. The gun moved, but Negan was quicker, sending the barrel swinging upwards towards the sky. Zane's finger slipped and the deafening explosion caused the crowd to scatter. 

"Shit! Goddamn bastard!"

Turtle emerged from cover first, Maggie quickly behind. She saw Negan jerk the shotgun away and bash Zane in the head with its butt, tossing the weapon and leaving Zane on his bottom, hands on the bleeding cut on his forehead. Slowly, a small group began to ease back together, keeping their distance. Negan looked up. Turtle followed his gaze and saw that his attention was focused on Carl and Rick, who'd been observing from afar.

"The fuck do you want, Prick?" Negan barked. He hissed, glancing back down at Zane. To himself, he breathed, "Fucker almost got me..."

"We came to see Maggie. And to see your…wife," Rick coughed. "What's going on?"

"Gregory is dead," Maggie said hoarsely. "Turtle killed him. They…they have to leave. Both of them. We don't harbor murderers here. Not anymore," she glanced at Negan, tearing her eyes away quickly.

The crowd murmured in approval and Maggie ducked her head, wiping away tears before they could fall.

"They can come with us. Back to Alexandria. We'll find something for them to do, somewhere for them to go," Rick said. He addressed the crowd, suddenly. "This woman is pregnant."

_"With his child! That psychos child!"_

Rick shook his head, walking up the steps towards Negan and Turtle. Carl followed. He stopped a foot away, meeting Negan's cold gaze.

_Murderer._

"You can come with us," Rick said softly. "Back to Alexandria. And…as long as you don't cause trouble, you can stay."

"Holy fuck," Negan said. "Thanks for the offer. We'll take it. The trouble part is gonna be fucking hard, though."

"Then don't go looking for trouble."

"Trouble always finds us, Prick. And it finds you, too."


	40. Silence the Whisperers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh we're nearing the end! Ten more chapters to go! As I was writing, I began thinking about a possible faceclaim for Turtle - I'd always imagined her as looking like Willa Holland. If anyone has any faceclaims, let me know in the comments! I'm always open to new interpretations!

Gnawing mouths greeted them at Alexandria's gate. Two mouths, female, mounted upon poles.

Clear evidence that the Whisperers weren't far.

Rick stopped the car a few yards from the two poles that had beens tuck in the ground, one on each side of the road. His eyes widened in fear, shock, and horror - Turtle felt Carl tense up next to her, and Negan grip her hand. Then, they began to approach slowly, instinctively reaching for their weapons. Guns, knives, and a barbed baseball bat were all brandished.

"That's Rosita," Carl breathed. "And Olivia."

Oh, no.

The gates opened. A grief stricken Michonne was there, along with Daryl, who sported a swollen eye. They rolled past the mounted heads, into Alexandria. Turtle saw Carol, Judith in her arms. There was blood on her shirt, on her pants. She looked tired.

They all looked so tired. The town seemed empty, dull.

As the gates closed, Carl leaped out first, helping Turtle from the truck. His one eye was wide, and he seemed to be holding Turtle tight, afraid to let go.

Rick wiped his eyes, surveying his followers. Negan leaned against the truck, arms crossed, ignoring the disgusted stares the residents of Alexandria sent his way.

Turtle saw Sherry emerge from a ornate home, Sasha in tow. She stopped at the sight of Turtle and at the sight of Negan, keeping within earshot as Rick began to speak.

"What the hell happened?"

"Whisperers," Daryl grunted. He glanced away. "She and Olivia were out in the woods, clearing some walkers. They must have," Daryl choked up, suddenly. "They must have grabbed them."

"They did the fucking same to us. Is that like their signature shit or something?"

"Don't know," Daryl grunted.

"We're going to have to fucking do something, you know," Negan said loudly.

"'We're'?" Daryl snarled. He stalked right up to Negan, teeth bared. "You aren't doing shit! Not after all the shit you've done to us-"

"Daryl," Carol hissed, her eyes tired and sullen. Daryl let out a breath, backing away.

"Negan is right," Rick said calmly, though his hands were shaking. "Something has to be done. We have to fight. We have the resources - Hilltop, the Kingdom...Negan," Rick met the mans eye. "He's with us, now. They both are."

If we don't do something soon, the Whisperers will.

Negan waved. Carol and Sasha glared while Carl stuck close to the pretty dark haired girl, Enid.

"Finally growing a fucking pair," Negan murmured against the top of Turtle head, gripping her shoulders. "Our boy is all grown the fuck up."  
~ ~ ~

Rosita and Olivia had no bodies to bury.

So they buried the heads in Alexandria's ever-growing grave.

Turtle had to assist, somehow. A part of her needed too. Negan was with Rick, planning. Scheming. Something Turtle was trying to avoid. Negan's leadership skills would come in handy, soon. The approaching war needed someone with his ferocity and instinct - she felt pity for Alpha and Beta, who would soon be facing a deadly combination.

Turtle was drifting farther and farther away from that world. Her body no longer wanted to fight. The realization that she was, indeed, missing a limb had finally caught up to her, amid all the exhaustion and the down-time she'd had over the past six months.

She dug for a little bit until her back began to hurt, her belly straining. She was dressed in some of the maternity clothes Jesus had managed to scavenge for her during the past six months. They fit well, and she'd adjusted them to fit her missing limb.

Daryl was digging with her. His movements were angry, muscles straining as he finished a hole large enough for Rosita's head. A man named Tobin was putting together the crosses, etching the names of both women into the wood in the comfort of his own home. Turtle used the shovel as a cane and watched Daryl.

"Stop staring at me."

Turtle said nothing. Daryl quit digging, squinting as he glanced at Turtle.

"I said stop looking at me, girl! If you aren't going to help, go away!"

"I said that you could call me Turtle," she scowled. "This is the first time I've seen you since Sanctuary. Since I rescued you," Turtle said softly.

"You weren't pregnant then, were you?" Daryl said. He slammed the shovel into the dirt, leaning against it. "You let Negan knock you up?"

"Yeah."

"Didn't think you and dickweed were that close."

"We're married," Turtle said softly. She raised her single hand. Daryl raised his eyebrows, shaking his head.

"You ain't had a ceremony," Daryl quipped. "It ain't official."

"Oh, hush," Turtle laughed. "We didn't have a priest back at Sanctuary."

"Yeah, no shit," Daryl continued digging. Staring down at the finished product he grabbed the small bag containing Rosita's decapitated head, which was no longer biting or snarling. He stared at it, sighting, before laying it gently into the hole. "Our priest could marry you."

"What?"

"Our priest, Gabriel. If y'all wanna do a ceremony or somethin'," Daryl shrugged. "Ask him."

"Do you think Rick would allow it?"

"Probably. He doesn't hate you as much as he hates Negan. It'd go down better if you asked him."

Turtle bit her lip to contain her sudden burst of excitement. This was good planning - non-violent planning. She could work with this. Live with this.

"I'll ask," Turtle said softly. "Thank you, Daryl."

"Sure," Daryl finished covering Rosita's head. They had two little dirt-filled holes now that stuck out against the large graveyard. Turtle saw named on each wooden cross - _Jessie, Sam, Ron, Abraham, Denise, Holly, Reg…_

Turtle's chest fell. They didn't have a burial ground at Sanctuary. The bodies of Paula and Bud were rotting somewhere, their names forgotten.

Tobin arrived with the crosses.

They added _Rosita_ and _Olivia_ to the names, the crosses sliding into the ground with barely a sound.


	41. Feel Good Inc.

It was like living back at Sanctuary. The supplies were provided to Turtle and, along with Eugene's assistance, she was back in the bomb-making business. Eugene provided the handiwork, for he possessed both hands and and an un-pregnant body, while Turtle gathered supplies and barked orders from behind him. She felt slightly at ease, able to contribute in some way.

She left Eugene to his own devices, one day. She hobbled over to Alexandria's clinic, the face of Denise flashing through her mind. This used to be her space, and now it was Sherry's. A seemingly endless transition.

Sherry greeted her with open arms, holding Turtle tightly for a few moments.

"I'll do my best," Sherry murmured. "When it comes to pregnancy, I'm no expert. Dwight and I never had any kids, but I do remember…before you came to Sanctuary, we had a woman give birth. Robert took care of it."

"He's still there, with Alpha," Turtle huffed. "That traitor."

"He probably doesn't have a choice," Sherry helped Turtle into a chair. "And…he's not here right now. I'm all this place has got, now."

Turtle watched as Sherry rested a hand against her stomach. Almost nonchalantly, Turtle said, "you know, I could die."

"You could," Sherry said softly.

"This wasn't supposed to happen…Negan and I weren't going to have children. But now…he or she is all I can think about. I don't care what happens to me. I need this kid to be safe."

"I told you, we'll do everything we can. You won't be alone in this," Sherry said. "Rick's kid has already said that he wants to help. Him and that Carol woman."

"Carl?" Turtle tilted her head back. "He's so young…" 

"The kid has one eye. I think he's seen enough. Bottom line, he want's to help. Support you. They all do. Maybe seeing you and seeing Negan vulnerable will change them somehow."

Turtle let out a breath, and suddenly, Sherry's eye lit up as she pulled her hand away from Turtle's stomach.

"What?"

"It moved. I felt it," Sherry beamed. "Kicked it's little foot."

"Negan thinks its a girl," Turtle laughed. "Did I tell you that? That's what he's betting on."

Sherry laughed. She stood and crossed her arms, peering down at Turtle. "Of course he does. Watch him be right, too," she sighed. "Now, when you go into labor, Carol and Carl will be ready. Don't worry about getting to me - they'll help you."

"And when will that be?"

"You gave me a rough estimate of when you got pregnant - sometime during the next six weeks. You're about to burst, Turtle - I'm surprised you're getting around," Sherry chuckled.

"Well, there's a lot to do. Can't stay sitting, especially not now."

"You shouldn't stress yourself so much," Sherry said softly. "I guess that's easier said than done. Not with all this..craziness. With the Whisperers."

"Yeah," Turtle got to her feet, wincing and cupping her belly. "I guess I got myself into it. I took the blame for Maggie. There's no way they'll let me back in - not for a long, long time."

Michonne opened the door, suddenly, leaning in and jerking her chin towards Turtle.

"Rick needs to see you."

"I'll be right there," Turtle said, and Michonne leaned against the doorframe. Turtle turned to Sherry, pulling the older woman into a quick hug. She murmured, "Thank you." 

"Don't mention it."

With that, Turtle turned and began following the katana-wielding woman towards Rick's home. Turtle kept silent, choosing not to make conversation - she wasn't sure if her relationship with Michonne was still sour.

_Might as well ask._

"Are we cool?" Turtle increased her pace, practically waddling. She glanced up at Michonne. "Like, do you still hate me? I'm totally fine if you do-"

"Nah. I'm over it," Michonne said, not looking at her. They walked in silence for a few moments before the taller woman said, "It was mutual."

"Your sword is cool."

Michonne laughed, pinching the bridge of her nose, finally looking Turtle in the eye.

"Is that why you wanted it?"

"Negan wanted it for me," Turtle corrected. "Sometimes he can forget that I'm a cripple."

"So do I."

Turtle beamed. "I guess that's a good thing, then."  
~ ~ ~  
Rick was nervous. Turtle could tell by the way he scratched at his stubble and tapped his foot. When Turtle entered the room he visibly stiffened, allowing Michonne to take a seat beside him. Negan was on the opposite couch, legs crossed, Lucille in his lap. His eyes shifted when he saw Turtle and he moved over.

Turtle cleared her throat and sat down next to him, gripping his hand out of instinct. Negan gave it a quick squeeze, shooting Rick a side-eyed glance.

"Are you two settling in fine?" Rick said gruffly. He scooted closer to Michonne, seemingly out of comfort. It was like going on an awkward double date, Turtle realized with a smirk. There was no one else around - just the four of them.

"The shit's nice. Nicer than I remember," Negan answered. "Damn. I should have stayed here more often, you know."

"Negan," Turtle hissed, squeezing his hand roughly. He sighed and shook his head. Turtle added, "Yeah, we're doing fine. Baby's healthy - due sometime in about six weeks, Sherry said."

"Good," Rick smiled a little. "Judith needs a playmate. That's not what I wanted to talk to you about, though. Right now, Daryl and Sasha are out scouting. Someplace Negan told us about - a power-plant that the Whisperer's holed up in a while ago."

"There's more of them?" Turtle hissed. "They're larger than we thought."

"Exactly. But Negan made a point earlier - if we destroy that power plant, send them scattering, then Sanctuary won't have any backup. We outnumber the Whisperer's, and they know it. Kingdom, Hilltop, us…all we need is to trap them. Then we can starve them out, force them to surrender and hopefully avoid any bloodshed."

"Alpha fucked up when she invaded Sanctuary. Those Whisperer's are used to hiding in the woods, using the fucking trees as cover - can't do that shit in the city. We station people up on the rooftops, all around - we can pick those assholes off one by one."

"But we need to destroy that power-plant, first," Michonne said coldly. "And that's where you come in, Turtle. We need bombs. Lot's of bombs."

"Whoa," Negan said, raising an eyebrow. "You ain't fucking working her overtime, Grimes-"

"I know. You'll have help - Eugene is already there. I'm having Tobin, Heath, Gabriel, and Tara join you. The rest of us will worry about rounding up the troops - get Glenn, Maggie, and the rest of Hilltop in on this," Rick said. "Maybe even Ezekiel, if he's up for it."

Turtle nodded, and Rick returned the small gesture. "I've got it. I'll get to work as soon as I can."

"They are so fucked," Negan barked a laugh. "Beta is mine, Grimes. Remember that. His ass is fucking mine."


	42. The Hellhound

"I made enough bombs," Turtle murmured against Negan's lips. He hummed his approval and kissed her once more, his thumb brushing across her jaw, trailing up her cheek. She smiled and pulled away. "My job is done. Now all we need to focus on is the baby."

"Fucking heard," Negan placed a palm against the swell of her stomach. "Goddamn. I can't believe it. Holy fucking shit."

"You're going to have to watch your language," Turtle chuckled. "The first word out of this kids mouth is going to be 'fuckity fuck'."

"That's two words," Negan corrected. Turtle rolled her eyes and he gave her another kiss, running a hand up her leg. "And fucking Christ…you taste fucking sweet. I could kiss you all fucking day."

"I'd say do it, but I know the answer. And you know what I'm going to say - you don't have to go with Rick."

"We want them to trust us, right? This is a start," Negan sighed, standing and offering Turtle his hand. "You gonna see me off or what?"

"Yeah, yeah," Turtle winced, gripping his hand tightly. They made their way outside, towards Alexandria's gates. People were out moving supplies, weapons, crates of explosives - Turtle saw Eugene hobbling with a box full of ammo and Gabriel rolling around a rack of guns. So far the team consisted of Rick, Daryl, Sasha, Ezekiel and Shiva, Michonne, Tara, Aaron, and several Alexandrian's Turtle had yet to meet. Glenn was meeting them on the road, along with Jesus and half a dozen Hilltop residents.

It was a solid group. Negan would add additional firepower, although Turtle wondered how well he'd take to Rick being in charge. He wasn't used to taking orders. He'd been on a pedestal for so long.

"Load up!"

Negan rolled his shoulders, clutching Lucille in one hand. He made a point of waiting until Rick and the group laid eyes on him before he leaned over and gave Turtle one final kiss.

"I'll be back. I love you," Negan murmured.

"Love you, too," Turtle replied softly.

She watched them drive off, one hand clutching her belly like a lifeline. Almost as if sensing her discomfort, the child within her shifted.  
~ ~ ~  
They'd been gone seven agonizing days. This power plant was far enough off that they saw no smoke, heard no gunfire. Turtle knew that it was all happening out there, somewhere.

And she wasn't there.

Turtle sat on Rick's couch. Carol was in the kitchen, with Judith. The little girl was walking upright, making demands and speaking her first words.

Carl watched his sister from his seat in an armchair, smiling. His hat rested in his lap, his eye covered, though not with a bandage, but with an eyepatch Turtle herself had fashioned for him. It had been a small gift - the least she could do for him.

"You're always staring at me," Carl said suddenly. "Every since I found you in that car."

"You look like my brother. His hair was darker, though," Turtle replied. "And he was a little bit taller."

"Is he dead?"

"Yeah," Turtle answered. "So is my little sister. And my mom. And my dad.

Carl shifted in his seat, his one eyes looking past her. He said, "My mom is dead, too. We thought Judith had died, a while back. We lost her."

"Did it feel like someone punched a hole in your gut?"

"Yeah."

Turtle nodded. She sighed and tilted her head back, not meeting Carl's gaze. "I'm glad she's alive. That little girl is something," Turtle smiled. "She's going to be something else, one day."

"Are you not scared of raising a kid?"

"No."

"You should be," Carl said coldly. "What if something happens - to the baby. Or to you?"

"You and Carol and Sherry are going to make sure this child lives. If I don't, then I don't. It's not about me anymore. It's never been about me. Maggie said that my biggest flaw is my selflessness, even though I don't feel selfless. Not with all the people I've killed."

"How many people?"

"A lot."

"How many walkers?"

Turtle scoffed. "You think I keep track? I don't know. Not nearly as many as I could with both arms, but it is what it is."  
"We'll have to see what's worse - one eye or one arm."

"You already have an advantage - your stomach is a normal size. Although, if you keep refusing to let me cut your hair, you aren't going to be able to see out of that other eye," Turtle scolded. "I've already told you, I'll come at you while you sleep."

Carl blanched. "I hate haircuts."

"I bet you'd been into them if Enid did it."

Carl's face turned a bright shade of red, and he shook his head rapidly. "Ew. Okay, fine. You can cut my hair - there's a pair of scissors-"

Carol was moving, suddenly, scooping up Judith and hurrying to the door. Through the open blinds Turtle saw the cause of her hastiness - a truck was pulling through Alexandria's gates.

"It's your dad," Turtle breathed. Carl was faster, and he extended an arm, helping Turtle stand. She hobbled after the boy, out the door and into Alexandria's streets.

The caravan of vehicles pulled to a stop. Rick was out first, rifle in hand. His coat sported a brand new tear and one of his eyes was swollen. His mouth was set in a grim line and he allowed Gabriel to take his weapon without hesitation.

Michonne got out next. Daryl. Sasha. Glenn, Jesus, Aaron, Tara. No Ezekiel or Shiva.

No Negan.

The group was relatively silent as they reunited with their loved ones - Daryl made a beeline to Carol while Rick quickly pulled Carl into a hug, Michonne's hand resting on her shoulder. It was Jesus who approached Turtle first, pulling her in and resting his lip against the top of her head.

"What happened?" Turtle murmured.

"Everything."

"You'll have to be more specific."

Jesus pulled away, sighing. Rick joined in, posture slouched and exhausted.

His eyes said everything. Turtle opened her mouth, stopping him before he could speak or explain. She felt as if she had to ask or else he'd avoid it.

"Where is he?"

"Ezekiel and Shiva are dead," Rick said softly.

"I didn't ask about them. Where's Negan, Rick?"

"Walkers flooded the place, after we set off the bombs. There was a fight. Daryl nearly got dragged in but Ezekiel and Shiva died saving him- Negan was closest to the blast. I saw someone grab him," Jesus said. He glanced at Rick before adding, "We saw some of the Whisperer's escape - it was dark, and they blended in. They could have had him."

"The place is destroyed. Those Whisperer's went back to Sanctuary to regroup with Alpha. If he's with them, then he's back to square one," Rick said.

"They'll kill him," Turtle murmured.

Rick and Jesus did not reply.

"They'll kill him," Turtle repeated her sentence again. There was a white hot rage boiling within her and she didn't know who it belonged to - the Whisperers, or Rick. The rational part of her brain was ringing, but she was ignoring it.

"We tried, Tessa," Jesus said softly, reaching out to grab her hand. She allowed him to take it, squeeze it. "We tried, for you. We know how much he means to you. We didn't forget that. Daryl tried tracking them, but they covered their footprints too well."

Turtle knew she was breaking down, and she was embarrassed. Her skin was flushed and Jesus had his arm around her, steering her away from Rick, from the confusion. He was holding her hand and she was clutching it like a lifeline.

She cried. She descended into her own personal hell, with a devil that didn't dare let her escape.


	43. Angharad

Three days.

Three days, and Negan had yet to show. Turtle sat outside Rick's home, on his porch chair and wait, hand on her stomach. Any day now she would have this baby - any day now, she would bring a child into this world not knowing whether or not she'd be raising it alone.

That afternoon, Jesus sat with her. His beanie was gone- - tucked into the pocket of his coat. Glenn and a handful had left for Hilltop, but Jesus had chosen to remain. Turtle would never know why he invested so much time in her. It wasn't a romantic investment, nor an investment out of selfishness.

Turtle didn't deserve his friendship. She never would, and it pained her that Jesus didn't seem to understand that.

"How are you doing?"

"Awful," Turtle replied. "I almost left last night. Sasha was on guard duty - she would have let me leave. She doesn't trust me."

"What about Daryl? Or Carol, or Carl. Rick, even. They all trust you. They would have come after you - I would have come after you."

Turtle ran fingers through her hair. It was longer, now, past her shoulders. No evidence of Miranda's knife. She leaned back, extending her legs, trying to find a comfortable position. Jesus was holding her hand, she realized. His touch was comforting, and he smiled.

"I've got to set you up with Aaron," Turtle said suddenly. "You two would be cute together."

"Michonne said the same thing."

"Ha," Turtle laughed. "She's more of a schemer than I am. She could come up with something. Make Carol cook or whatever, set up some candles-"

"I'm not into all that," Jesus laughed.

"You deserve something nice. Something relaxed. Cause in a few days, all hell is going to break loose," Turtle gestured to her stomach. Savor it while you can."

"This is the perfect place to raise a kid. Not out there, not at Hilltop or even the Kingdom. This…this is the place, I think. Plenty of babysitters."

Turtle huffed, groaning as she got to her feet. "Speaking of babysitters," she began, "Carl offered. I'm paying him in bomb-making lessons. He gets a day with the baby and I teach him how to hook up some wires. Now, where is that kid?"

As if on cue, there was a gunshot, followed by a scream. Turtle stumbled, her eyes shooting towards Alexandria's front gates. She saw Sasha's form slid down the staircase and another body topple from the wall, falling heavily to the ground and remaining still.

Sasha was running. Rick burst through the door, followed by Carol, who brandished a machete. Reluctantly, Turtle followed, keeping a firm grip on Jesus's hand.

Michonne drew her sword and Daryl notched an arrow. They'd switched the battle-mode faster than Turtle had ever witnessed, her own mind churning as she felt the knife strapped to her thigh, beneath her white maternity dress.

"Rick!"

Turtle knew that voice. That snarling, feminine voice that had taunted her months ago.

_"Rick! Open your gates! We have your son!"_

Morgan and Eugene slid open Alexandria's gate. Rick drew his gun, shifting back and forth as his eyes immediately began searching for Carl.

"We found him out wandering. Though you might want him back," Alpa called. She stood, an entourage of skin-clad Whisperer's behind her. Some in trucks, others crouched next to the spiked cars littering the road. To Turtle's horror, Carl was on his hands and knees, his eyepatch removed. His nose was bloody and he was shaking.

Alpha was dangerously close to him, Beta looming in the background.

_"Dad?"_

Alpha kicked him. Rick lunged, stopping when Alpha's knife came a hair away from landing on Carl's throat.

From her angle, Alpha had a clear view of Turtle, Rick, Daryl, Morgan, Carol, Jesus, and Michonne. Her eyes scanned the crowd, landing briefly on Turtle, then back to Rick. She let out a breath, nodding towards her skin-clad followers. Like the red sea they parted, and pushing forward two chained figures with bags draped over their heads.

Turtle recognized Negan immediately. His jacket was gone but she recognized the tattoos on his arm. The other figure was a girl, smaller.

Beta caught Negan by the collar while Alpha gripped the girl by the arm.

"What do you want?" Rick called. He sounded surprisingly calm, but his posture and facial expression betrayed him. He was a shaking, nervous wreck, his knuckles white from clutching the hilt of his gun.

"We want people," Alpha answered. "Just one," she gestured to Beta, and he quickly yanked the bag from Negan's head. Staring back at her was a battered face, tired and worn. He met Turtle's eye and his face fell immediately - he said nothing, did nothing.

Just stared.

Something was wrong. He was trying to tell her something - Turtle could tell by the way his fingers twitched against his leg, tapping rhythmic patterns. His eyes shot from Alpha to the hostage woman next to him.

"What do you mean?" Rick said. When Alpha didn't reply, he spoke louder. "What do you mean?"

Alpha extended a finger towards Turtle. "We want her."

Immediately, Jesus stiffened. He took a threatening step forward, slightly blocking Turtle with his body. Daryl crept closer, crossbow raised.

"Why her?" Rick asked cautiously.

"I'm being generous," Alpha said firmly. "Two for one. Your son, and your son's partner."

 _Enid._ Turtle bit her lower lip to keep from cursing. She slowly released Jesus's hand.

"Let me-"

"No."

"Jesus, move," Turtle snapped.

Negan was still looking anxious. Still sending her a message. His fingers were tapping wildly now, his lips twisted into a grimace. A steady trickle of blood dripped from his broken nose.

Carl began to cry. Alpha nudged him and he straightened up as she gripped Enid's shoulder and walked her forward, towards the open gates.

Turtle let out a breath and began walking forward. She saw Rick nod and Morgan began to tail her, making his way towards Enid.

"Carl next," Rick said coldly. Alpha nodded, her hold on Enid slackening until she released the girl and let her hobble over to Morgan.

_We should have known._

Morgan screamed. It was an earsplitting noise, like the end of the world. Turtle spun and saw Enid clamp down hard on his shoulder, teeth ripping away at the sinew. The bag lay on the ground and her dirty hands were over Morgan's chest and his face.

There was so much blood.

"Morgan!"

Rick aimed his gun but Alpha was already dragging Carl to his feet, using him as a shield. A pair of Whisperer's emerged from the shadows, heading towards Turtle.

She had to help Morgan.

The undead Enid ripped another chunk from his shoulder before he managed to push her away. Turtle bounded over, chest heaving. Enid turned and Turtle shoved, screaming as her back strained and Enid undead corpse stumbled towards the gate. Morgan staggered back, in shock, falling into Carol's arms as he spewed blood like a garden hose.

"Tessa!" Negan shouted.

"Move, move, move!"

She felt a rush of wind and Daryl's crossbow whizzed over her shoulder, an inch away from her head. It lodged itself into Enid's forehead, and the girl toppled, spitting and spewing.

Turtle felt a sharp sensation in her lower belly. She staggered back as the Whisperer's gripped her shoulders and her hair, pulling her away.

"Carl! Tessa!"

Rick's gun was still raised, but Alpha still had Carl as her shield, like a true coward.

The pain came, suddenly, a sudden wave that caused her legs to weaken. She screamed, out of shock, pain and terror. A Whisperer bashed her across the face with the hilt of his knife.

"Fucking stop it!" Negan shouted. "Stop it, you jackass! She's in fucking pain!"

"Shut up!" Beta snapped.

Turtle was dragged into the back of an old van. Carl first, then Negan, then her. The vehicle was moving as the remaining Whisperer's flooded into Alexandria, some managing to engage in combat before being mowed down by gunfire. She saw Rick's face, Daryl, Jesus, all of them, fighting, screaming. And Morgan, on the ground, unmoving.

"Shut her up!"

Turtle cried out again as the pain returned.

The child inside her wanted out.

"Not now. Not fucking now, please, no." Negan murmured. He kissed Turtle's head, his palm resting against her cheek. Carl sat next to him, face flushed, his expression that of horror.

"Now," Turtle gasped. _"Now."_


	44. Break the World

The fact that Robert was alive turned out to be a miracle.

Of course, Alpha had to have a doctor - Robert would pledge allegiance to whomever fed him, clothed him, and kept him safe. He wasn't Sherry, or Harlan. But he was a doctor, and a doctor was what Turtle desperately needed.

"Grab her arm, kid," Negan instructed, barking orders. Carl obeyed, stifling his own tears and helping Negan hoist her from the van. Another shudder of agony ran through her and she cried out, eyes closed. Her senses were overwhelmed, and she felt it all - Negan's breath against her cheek, Carl's soft murmurs of terror, Alpha and Beta ushering them towards Sanctuary, words clipped, unconcerned.

"Where the fuck is Robert?" Negan yelled. "She needs a fucking doctor now!"

"In here," Alpha growled. Turtle's head lolled and fell forward, her eyes focused on the concrete. Her feet dragged as another wave of pain washed over her, far more intense than before.

Feet pounded against the floor. Turtle heard Robert's insistent instructors, Negan's curses, and her own cries of pain. Her world tilted as Negan and Robert hoisted her onto a cot. It was Carl who began gathering the rags and kneeling next to Turtle's head, his single eye wide with terror.

"You can do this."

Turtle nodded, squeezing out a tear as another sharp stab of pain ran through her body. She heard Robert sigh, and she saw the top of his head while Negan stood behind him, fists clenched.

Beta was guarding the door. Alpha had a machete in hand.

She would use it, Turtle had no doubt. She was a monster and she would act like a monster, if pushed.

"Do everything I say," Robert said softly. "Okay? Just listen to me. This will all go fine."

Turtle opened her mouth to reply, but another wave of pain hit her and she screamed, the veins in her neck bulging.

"Get it out. Please."

"Working on it."

Another stab. Turtle's legs seized up and she cried out.

_Do exactly as I say._

Carl laid a hand against her sweat-slicked forehead, while Negan began assisting Robert.

Turtle didn't know how long it all lasted. Her screams were reduced to whispers and she vaguely remembered Robert speaking to her, giving her instructions. She remembered following them, biting her lip until it bled. She vaguely remembered Carl removing his hat and resting his head against her shoulder, and she vaguely remembered kissing the top of his head as she tried not to cry or scream or both.

"It's a girl," Robert suddenly said. He was holding a small, bloody bundle, streaked with residue.

Negan was frozen. His fists were unclenched and he was peering over Robert's shoulder.

_A girl._

"Told you," Negan smirked, and Turtle barked a pained laugh.

_Susan._

Negan held her first, stepping over to Turtle. Carl moved, allowing him to kneel next to Turtle's head.

"She looks like you!" Carl said suddenly, eyebrows raised as he took a look at Negan and Turtle's child. "She's got your face, Turtle!"

"She does," Negan murmured, shifting so Turtle could see her child. The little girl was incredibly small, with little tuffs of black hair atop her tiny head. Her eyes were closed and she was crying softly, little whines of confusion as she adjusted to the real world.

Alpha chose that moment to step forward and pull Carl away first, dragging him towards the door. Turtle raised her head and cried out in protest, only to fall silent as Susan began to sob. Negan held her close to his chest, Robert hovering protectively at his side.

"Congratulations," Alpha said coldly, shoving Carl against the wall. She glanced to the side and Turtle saw, once again, the same blonde girl from before. Alpha's daughter.

"Lydia, take the boy to his cell. Lock him up," Alpha snapped, gripping Carl once more and pushing him out the door. Lydia drew her knife and poked it into Carl's back, steering him away, towards confinement. Alpha made a noise of disgust and turned back to Negan, machete raised. "Did you really think we'd care for your child? That we'd have the energy or resources? It would have been better for me to have put your wife out of her misery."

"Touch her and I'll fucking strangle you, bitch," Negan snarled.

"Do not threaten her!" Beta snarled, stepping forward.

"Let's not threaten anyone!" Robert said, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

Negan kept stern gaze on Alpha and Beta, gently handing Turtle the baby - their baby. Turtle held her close, marveling at her little fingers and her scrunched up face.

"She probably wants to feed," Robert murmured. He sighed and stood, saying to Alpha, "Just give us time. Give them time. This fight is over - just give them time."

Alpha's nose wrinkled and she sighed. "Get them up. Put all three of them in a cell. The girl too weak - she'll die soon, anyway."

Robert hissed, but nonetheless, he followed Alpha's command. Negan took Susan while Robert gripped Turtle, who gasped at the contact. Just that small movement was painful, sending little rivulets of blood down her legs. She didn't realize how exhausted, beaten down she was. From the bruises on her body to the sheer exhaustion of having lost so much blood, and the trauma of having been forced to give birth, she suspected Alpha was right.

She couldn't take much more. She'd die without proper care, eventually.

Beta and Robert threw them into a cell. They stared out at a blank wall - Carl was nowhere to be seen. Turtle briefly wondered if he'd been killed - Alpha had a plan, didn't she? She knew Carl's origins. If she was smart, she'd keep him alive. Use him to her advantage.

The same couldn't be said for Negan, Susan, and Turtle. They had no allies. Using them as leverage would never go down well enough.

Susan cried as Turtle hastily nursed her, the effort weak. It wasn't enough - Turtle herself was undernourished, unprepared. She managed to squeeze out some milk before she couldn't take it.

"When will this all end?" Turtle murmured. Negan's eyes were fixed on Susan, staring at her as if she were the only thing in the world. Turtle smiled at his devotion, resting against him. "Negan. When will this all end?"

Negan didn't answer. He didn't want too.

All three of them were woken that night. Susan began to whimper, but Negan shushed her, one hand stroking the top of her head. Turtle took longer to come too, though her eyes snapped open in shock when she saw Carl standing outside their cell.

The girl - Lydia - was by his side. Her disturbed eyes fell on Susan and a glimmer of something - hope, maybe - flashed across her soft features.

"Carl?"

He began unlocking their cell. When the door swung open he rushed in, falling into Turtle's open arms. He hugged her, nose pressed against her shoulder. When he pulled away, he said, "We're getting you out of here. Lydia and I - she wants out."

Turtle glanced over Carl's shoulder to where Lydia stood, staring at the ground.

Then her eyes fell on Susan. Her daughter stirred, little eyes still closed.

"She can't fucking walk, kid," Negan said. "Tessa. She's too weak-"

"I won't be able to keep up," Turtle interrupted. "Carl, you need to leave. Both of you - if you're going to go, you need to go now and go fast."

"I'm not leaving you," Carl said in disbelief. "I can't."

Turtle's heart fell. She stared down at her daughter, at her little face scrunched up in confusion and innocence, but sleeping. Silent.

"Carl," Turtle whispered. "I want you and Lydia to take Susan back to Alexandria, okay?"

"What?" Negan lifted his head. Turtle ignored him.

"Take her. Get out of here and run. Find a car, and get back home. Don't let Rick try and rescue us, either. What's done is done, okay?"

"Without you?" Carl breathed, mouth open as he gathered Susan in his arms. "I can't-"

"Yes, you can. You are smart, and you are so brave," Turtle placed her palm against his cheek. She bit out her words, barely able to contain her sorrow. "This little girl is all we have," Turtle felt Negan squeeze her hand, his own face emotionless. "I trust you, and I care about you, okay? You'll make it. You'll do what my brother never got to do."

Turtle kissed Carl's forehead, then Susan's. The boy's eyes were bloodshot, thick with tears that would not fall. He nodded, glancing down at Susan.

"I won't let you down."

"I know."

He and Lydia re-locked the door, leaving Negan and Turtle still imprisoned.

They were gone.

Turtle leaned against Negan. She gripped his hand, feeling him relax next to her.

"You asked me earlier," Negan said, "When this all ended. I think it ends here - right fucking here. It all fuckin' started with the two of us, and it'll fuckin' end with the two of us."

"The two of us dead," Turtle chuckled.

"No. Alive."

"You have a plan?" Turtle raised her eyebrows.

"Of course I have a fucking plan. Susan isn't gonna be an orphan, Tess. Remember all those bombs you made and stored? I put them to good use. We're going out with a fucking boom."

Turtle smiled.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."


	45. Bastille

"Where are they?"

Alpha had a machete against Turtle's throat while Beta restrained Negan, having forced him to the ground. Beta had him pinned, knee planted into his back, arms restrained. Negan's lips were pulled into a thin line as he glared daggers at Alpha.

Turtle remained slouched. Her dress was torn, exposing her bare, blood-streaked stomach and wrapped around her hips and breasts like frail bandages. She supposed she looked more like the undead, ready to be put down.

She smiled. She knew that her teeth looked disgusting, flecked with blood.

"Gone," Turtle hissed. "Way gone."

"Gone where?"

"Well, you have three options. The Kingdom, Alexandria, or Hilltop," Turtle replied confidently. "I sent them to one of those locations. I'm buddy-buddy with all three."

Alpha pulled the knife away. She glanced at Beta, rolling her eyes.

"Making me play the guessing game, huh?" Alpha growled. "Is this fun for you?"

"Might as well have a little fun before I die," Turtle's head lolled to the side and she grinned again. "Sucks, doesn't it? The moment you realize you don't know shit-"

Alpha bashed her across the face. The hilt of the machete drew a line across her cheek. The blood began to drip, steadily, down her neck.

Negan struggled, but remained silent. He met Turtle's eye, nodding slightly.

_He had it under control._

"You don't have enough supplies. You don't have enough men - we took care of that. You want your daughter back, don't you?"

Alpha's eyes flickered and she gripped Turtle's face, fingers digging into her wounds.

"Don't act like I won't kill you both. I will. And you'll be first, little girl. And it'll be slow."

"Then by all means, kill me."

Alpha released her. She stepped back, gesturing for Beta to move. As quickly as Negan was able to stand Alpha was atop him, machete digging into his neck.

Beta loomed over Turtle. Turtle sized him up, sitting straight and staring directly into is troubled eyes.

The look he gave her betrayed the fact that he was trying to hide something. Turtle knew that look. It was in the eyes of those men as they held her down and took away her innocence.

_Better hurry up Robert._

"Get on your knees," Beta instructed. He was toying with the zipper of his jeans, his face an emotionless mask. Turtle watched, disgusted, as he undid his fly. She wrinkled her nose, closing her eyes as she felt Beta's fingers curl against her scalp.

The entire compound rumbled, suddenly. Dust and dirt fell from the ceiling, bricks dislodged and came crashing down. Alpha was forced to release Negan as a small chunk of concrete slammed hard into her shoulder.

Maybe it was pure stupidity, adrenaline, and a shred of desperation that made Turtle do what she did next - she lunged, making sure not to breathe in the scent, and clamped down hard on Beta's exposed manhood.

He screamed. It was a high-pitched wail of pain and Turtle bit down hard enough that she drew blood, teeth piercing the skin. It only took one punch to force her away, but the damage had already been done, and Beta was red-faced and cursing, blood dripping onto the concrete.

In one fluid motion Beta dragged Turtle to her feet and spun, flinging her through the air like a ragdoll. She sailed through the open door, the opposite wall stopping her.

She passed out before she even hit the ground. She woke up seconds later, sideways, the world a tilted mess. She saw Negan hurl a well-aimed punch that snapped Alpha's head around and sent blood flying from her mouth and nose. Then he was stumbling out the cell, slamming the door shut behind him.

He gathered Turtle in his arms, muscles straining.

Another explosion.

"Here, here," Turtle slid from his grip, walking on her own - stumbling on her own. The world was a dizzying array of colors and sounds, and she could hear her heart pounding, clear as day amongst the chaos. She saw Negan rush ahead and draw a machete - Alpha's machete - and slice at an oncoming Whisperer. Blood sprayed.

Negan grabbed her arm and tugged her forward, ushering her to move faster. Despite the screaming in her legs, she tried, and tried. It was still too slow.

They reached Robert's makeshift clinic before Turtle could collapse. The place was a mess - broken tables, glass spread across the floor. And Robert was lying in the corner, a knife lodged into his gut.

He was still alive. Turtle used Negan as support as she approached, eyes wide in disbelief as the man who'd saved her life took his final breaths.

"You got the switch like I asked," Negan said. "Fucking…you did it. You fucking remembered."

Robert coughed, straightening up a bit. "How could I?" he croaked. "You told me that if things ever go to shit, this would be our backup plan."

"I thought you were with Alpha?" Turtle said shakily, holding on to Negan like a lifeline. She saw Robert's eyes flutter in pain as he groaned, his next few words forced and pained.

"That bitch doesn't have followers. She has servants," Robert sighed. "We've done some shitty things - you've done some shitty things, Negan - but I guess you're still family. We're all family."

Turtle smiled softly. "Thank you. For everything."

"Just doing my job. Now, put me out of my misery an get out of this hellhole."

Robert closed his eyes. Turtle closed her own, not wanting to watch. The sound of Negan sliding his machete through Robert's skull was enough.

_Another friend lost._

"Let's go," Negan murmured, wiping the weapon on his pant leg. "Get on my back. And don't fucking argue, okay? Not this fucking time."

Turtle obeyed, and they were finally able to _run._


	46. Last Day On Earth

"You didn't make it far."

Negan collapsed, his knees buckling from the stress and the pain. Grunting, Turtle toppled as well, landing hard on her stomach.

A mile. They'd made it a mile. Negan, carrying Turtle on his back, had jogged a majority of it. They'd heard the car approaching from behind, and that was when Negan had kicked it up to a run.

"Stay with me," he'd yelled, feeling Turtle's head loll to the side as she began to lose consciousness once more. "Stay the fuck with me, understand? Don't fucking pass out on me!"

Turtle hit the ground, feeling Negan's arm around her. He held her protectively, glaring as Alpha and Beta emerged from the parked vehicle. A dozen more skin-clad freaks began spilling from buildings, walking briskly, blood-soaked robes sweeping the ground and making them look like ghosts.

"I'd like my machete back," Alpha said coldly. "And don't make this harder than it's already been. I've wasted enough resources on the two of you."

"You want your kid back, right?"

"Save it. I only really need one of you - and I think he's already broken," Alpha pointed a finger at Negan. "Right? Didn't Beta break you the first time? I'm quite keen to get my turn with the cripple."

"Bring it on, bitch," Negan growled.

Alpha nodded. Beta reached inside the truck and pulled out something Turtle never thought she'd see again - Lucille. The bat looked worse for wear, missing a few of her barbs, the wood chipped and no longer holding its shine. He swung it experimentally, approaching Negan and Turtle slowly.

Once again, Turtle witnessed all hell break loose in a matter of seconds. This time, it was slower, her eyes able to analyze several different angles. She saw an arrow strike a Whisperer square in the forehead, and a bullet down another. Then another. The bullets came in like hail, forcing the Whisperer's into cover. They ducked behind dumpsters, cars, into alleyways.

Turtle glanced up. She saw a female figure perched atop a building and immediately recognized her dark complexion and determined face.

_Sasha._

"The cavalry is fuckin' here," Negan spat, knocking Turtle away from Beta's swing. Lucille nearly missed Negan's skull, ruffling his hair as he leaped away. "You wanna dance, shitstain? Let's fucking dance!"

Turtle was no use in this fight. Beta wasn't drugged up like Hound. He was slower, she noticed, now that he and Negan were even, matched in both weapon and environment.

Her hands trembled. She had no weapon. Alpha was behind her vehicle, hands over her head and bullets ate away the glass and chewed at the metal. On the opposite side was Michonne, slicing away at Whisperers and approaching roamers alike. The lines were blurred - in the heat of a fight, the Whisperers and the roamers blended far too well.

Despite their lack of guns, the Whisper's had that advantage - disguise. Ambiguity.

Something grabbed Turtle's shoulder. She screamed, bum arm lashing out to smack her attacker across the face. The roamer groaned and lunged, and Turtle's eyes flew to the hunting knife lodged in his shoulder. As he fell, Turtle rolled, her bum arm pinning the roamer to the ground while her good hand curled around the knife and tugged.

She dispatched the roamer, the smell of blood, dirt and sweat clogging her nose and causing her to gag. Some of it was her own, she realized.

_Get used to it._

Alpha was still pinned down. Negan and Beta were fighting, viciously, machete and bat flying. The Alexandrian's, Rick's people, were on the offensive, guns firing at Whisperer's and roamers.

Turtle stood, the motion bold. Her hair was plastered to her face, wet with sweat and blood. She gripped the knife, staying in the shadows, creeping towards Alpha.

This would be her last kill, right? It had to be. Alpha had to be it -

A skin-clad Whisperer lunged at Turtle from the side, springing out of nowhere - their suits made them blend far too well for Turtle's liking. She staggered back, yelling and slashing a line through his suit. Then she fell upon him before he could get any good hits in, knife plunging deep into his chest, once, twice, three times. His head cracked against the concrete, and he fell sill.

Turtle stood and turned, wiping blood from her eyes. It was everywhere - on her chest, her legs, her arms and stomach and neck and face.

Alpha was gone.

Turtle blanched, snarling. Enraged, she delivered a series of furious swipes at an oncoming roamer, dispatching it and several others with ease.

She crept up behind a Whisperer and slit his throat. The motion came naturally to her, now. The blood that sprayed did not bother her.

What bothered her was Negan. Her gaze flickered between him and Rick's team, Michonne, Daryl, Carol, Glenn, Jesus. Tara. Sasha. Aaron.

_Maggie._

They were all here for her, she realized with sudden clarity. They were all here for her.

Her friends.

She saw Negan go down. Beta swung Lucille and she made contact against Negan's kneecap, shattering the bone. Then against his chest, most likely breaking a majority of his ribs. The bat cracked against his shoulder, driving him against the asphalt. She watched in absolute agony as Beta had him at his mercy, and with one swing smashed Lucille against the ground, shattering her into pieces.

"Look at your weapon now," Beta said coldly, holding Lucille by the handle. The other half dangled from a piece of barbed wire. He tossed it to the side, sneering down at Negan.

Negan lay on his stomach, mouth slightly open and leaking fluid. He gasped for breath as Beta's boot pressed hard against his neck, forcing him to breathe in his own puddle of blood.

He met Turtle's eye.

_Don't do anything stupid._

Turtle proceeded to do just that. It was out of sheer desperation, sheer helplessness. For the first time she felt absolutely no fear, just a sense of clarity. If she was going to die, she had to die this way. She had to die helping another.

That was her purpose, after all.

She rushed Beta like a linebacker, knowing well that she wasn't going to move him. She revealed the knife last second, staring hard into Beta's cold eyes and harsh sneer before driving the knife into his gut. She stabbed him once, twice, three times. Four times. Each his harder and each hit striking a different nerve, from his hip to his shoulder to his chest.

Turtle at least expected him to yell.

He didn't. His eyes widened but he made no sound save for a grunt, as if he were inconvenienced by the sudden interruption.

When Turtle pulled away he backhanded her so hard that her head snapped to the side and she saw stars. The knife slipped from between her blood-drenched hand.

 _"Tessa!"_ Jesus shouted, planting both hands on the chests of approaching roamers. Turtle didn't see what happened after that, for Beta's fingers curled around her throat in a vice grip.

He lifted her off the ground like she weighed nothing, muscles bulging. He had one foot planted against Negan's neck, and one hand holding Turtle like a rag doll, keeping her suspended her in the air as if she were a proud trophy being put on display.

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't scream, and she opened her mouth, sucking in air and being forced to stare into those cold, dead eyes, like that of a walker.

Beta began to squeeze.


	47. The Humbling River

Everything was muffled.

Negan's screams, Jesus's screams. Daryl's yells and Rick cries. Gunshots. The moans of the undead.

The cries of a child - distant, but heard. Only Turtle could hear them and recognized them as the cries of her daughter.

__

_"Mommy!"_

Turtle stared up at the clouds as Beta squeezed harder, and Turtle's limbs began to thrash like a fish out of water as her body tried to find some way, any way, to get air.

She was dying. Beta was killing her. She felt like her head was going to explode. Her lungs struggled to function as Beta lifted her even higher for the world to see. His face was becoming blurry - everything was becoming blurry, tunnel vision, like she was peering through a veil.

"Tess!"

Turtle saw Jesus, one arm holding down a roamer, the other flailing outwards to fling something sharp in Beta's direction. It flipped through the air like a helicopter blade before embedding itself deep into Beta's thigh.

Beta grunted and fell to one knee. Turtle's feet touched the ground and for one long, agonizing second Turtle was able to act, mustering all her strength to pull Beta forward and off of Negan.

Negan sprung up like a cobra. Beta increased his grip, and Turtle was fairly sure she felt and heard a bone pop. He released her, but the air did not come.

Negan, machete in hand, slit Beta's throat. But the damage had already been done, and Turtle fell back.

The last thing Turtle saw before death was Alpha limping heedless towards her, knife in hand.

_..._

_..._

_..._

_"Some hell of an ending, huh?"_

_"Always have to be a drama queen."_

_Turtle's lips curled downward into a scowl. She elbowed her brother in the side and he laughed, tossing another stick into the campfire._

_Her little sister watched with big eyes, clutching onto Turtle's arm._

_"Mom," Turtle said slowly, "I didn't pick this ending. You know, it just kind of happened."_

_Her father replied, "You shouldn't be up here, with us."_

_"This is where I want to be, though," Turtle dug her heels into the grass, staring at the flickering flames that seemed all too real. "With you."_

_"No, no," her mother said. "You don't belong up here."_

_Turtle's nose wrinkled. She glanced at her sister, who nodded. Even her brother, for once, was silent._

_"I miss you. All of you."_

_"We miss you, too, sweetheart. I know it's hard. I know the world down there is awful, but it's not your time, yet."_

_"I want it to be my time."_

_"Are you sure?" her father replied. "It's not so great, up here. It's a little boring."_

_Turtle began to cry, suddenly. She knew the tears weren't real because when they fell, they disappeared. But she felt them - all of them. Each tear, each shred of innocence._

_"It's not fair that you guys had to die," Turtle whimpered. "You shouldn't have died. I should have helped you-"_

_"Sweetie," her mother cooed. "You did everything that you could. You tried. You're so strong," she smiled. "And you have a job to do."_

_Turtle sniffed, staring at her parents, leaning against the shoulder of her brother. Her sister held her hand - a hand that was, miraculously, still attached to her body._

_It all made sense._

_"I have a job," Turtle murmured. Then, louder, so her family could hear. "I have a job. I have a kid, and a husband. A family. More family."_

_"You honor the dead by helping the living," her brother said. "That's your job."_

_Turtle sucked in a breath. Squeezed her sisters arm._

_"I have a job. I have a job," Turtle sighed. "Okay. I'm ready," then, softly and surely, staring her family directly in their nonexistent eyes, "I love you. All of you."_

_"We love you, too. Now go get em', Tessa."_


	48. Line Equals End

Turtle opened her eyes. She sucked in a breath, and then another, pain blossoming in her chest. She coughed, gasping, wetness seeping from the corners of her eyes.

"Tessa? Tessa!"

She recognized Jesus's voice. He had a hand on her chest, she realized, and another cradling her head. His beard was grimy, dripping blood, and his bright eyes were filled with worry.

"I'm okay."

Jesus let out a breath. Turtle tried to sit up, tried to move, but it was all so painful. She winced, finally mustering up the courage to pull herself into a sitting position with Jesus's help. She was able to look around more clearly, from this angle - bodies littered the road. She saw Rick and his people milling around, driving knives into the skulls of dead Whisperer's and finishing off the last of the undead.

Beta lay, sprawled across the ground, dead. A few yards away lay Alpha, unmoving. Turtle peered to see if she was unconscious but saw the quarter-sized hole blown between her forehead, her eyes wide open with shock and terror, a reflection of her last moments.

Rick met her eye. He nodded, turning away as Maggie breezed past him and practically fell into Turtle's arms, holding her.

Crying.

For her.

"…Tess?" Negan groaned.

Turtle turned. Jesus released her, but not without tugging her into a quick hug. Then he sat on his hunches next to Maggie and watched as Negan, bruised, battered and bloody, picked himself off the ground and practically crawled to her, his limp leg dragging behind him.

His embrace wasn't gentle, it was hurried - desperate. As if he were seeing her for the first time after a hundred long years. Turtle cried out, though not in pain, but in joy and relief. He clutched her like a lifeline, one arm around her waist, pulling her close, the other stroking her back, curling against the ratty, torn cloth wrapped around her chest.

She kissed him. It was a cliche move - in fact, the entire thing was cliche. Negan, his arms around her, near tears. Turtle, clutching his face earnestly.

She didn't care.

"You were fucking dead," Negan sobbed. "You weren't fucking breathing - I thought you'd fucking died, I thought I'd lost you, Tess-"

"I'm here," Turtle murmured against his ear, clutching him like a lifeline. "I'm here, don't worry. I'm not going anywhere," she ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him once, twice, three times on the mouth. She rested her forehead against his, steadying her own breathing, trying to calm him. That was all she could do.

"I'm here. I'm here, with you, and I'm okay."  
~ ~ ~

"Did you ever think about maybe rebuilding Sanctuary?" Turtle asked. She held Susan against her bosom as she nursed, legs crossed. It wasn't stressful, this time. She had food in her and her wounds were stitched and bandaged, courtesy of Sherry.

For the first time in a while, she felt good. Mentally. Carol and Daryl were both taking turns assisting with Susan, which had allowed Negan and Turtle both a full nights rest.

Now, the stress was gone. Well, not completely - the terror was gone. The sinking feeling, as if someone or something was looming over her shoulder every waking moment. She could breathe, and she could relax.

Negan was in the kitchen. Turtle couldn't see what he was doing, but she heard his reply.

"I don't fuckin' know. I guess. I mean, I sure as shit don't wanna stay here forever," dishes rattled, and Negan sighed, thumping his crutch against the hardwood. "And as much as I hate to fucking say it, we need Prick Grimes and his people. We're alone, Tessa. Hell, I doubt Sherry would even back us up. She has a home here, now."

"So do we," Turtle replied, glancing down at Susan. "Home isn't necessarily a location - it's the people that make the home. And hey, lay off Rick. He saved me. I know it's hard to believe, but he saved me."

Negan emerged from the kitchen, leaning against his crutch for support and wiping his hands on his pant leg. Turtle rolled her eyes, but decided not to scold him. He smirked and sat down next to her, peering over at Susan, who'd fallen into a peaceful slumber, her belly fully.

Turtle tucked herself away, nudging Negan with her elbow. "You perv."

"I mean, I haven't seen your tits in, what…how long has it been? Too fucking long," Negan raised his eyebrows.

"Look, don't touch," Turtle chided. She smiled, chuckling and shaking her head. "I just…there has to be something else, you know? I want to rebuild Sanctuary because I want to do things the right way…"

"My way wasn't the right way?"

Turtle met her husbands eye. He stared at her, awaiting an answer. After a long while she said, "I didn't agree with it. I had this idea that I could change you. That I could make you into something different. I didn't understand why you did the things that you did…"

"I don't want you to understand. It would be better if you didn't understand," Negan's face fell. "I'm a sack of shit. I know that I'm a sack of shit - I don't deserve someone like you, and I certainly don't deserve her," Negan reached out and lightly touched Susan's head.

"Tell me."

"Huh?"

Turtle scooted closer, cradling Susan. Her daughter shifted, but remained asleep. Softly, she murmured, "Tell me. Tell me why you did what you did. I know there's something else in you, Negan. If there wasn't, I wouldn't be here. You wouldn't have saved me, and you certainly wouldn't love me."

Negan nodded. He ran fingers through his hair, which sat unkempt atop his head.

"Okay. I'll tell you. Don't think too fucking highly of me, baby. I wasn't the greatest person before all of this - before the world went to shit."

Turtle placed her palm against his cheek, and he held it there, sighing, kissing the side of it.

"There's a reason that bat is-," Negan winced. "Lucille. There's a reason - she was a goddamn tether. I'm not sad to see her fuckin' go. She's not my life anymore - you are. You and Susan. You're all I fucking need."


	49. Parenthood

"Rick?"

Turtle held Susan close to her chest, her bum arm hooked underneath for support. Susan was cooing, bright eyes open, chubby little hands tugging at her mothers clothes. Rick looked up at the sound of her voice, shifting over a bed on the staircase leading to the porch of his home. He was dressed modestly in a white shirt and a pair of pants that, for the first time in what seemed like a million years, weren't covered in blood and grime. He was clean shaved and seemed much more chipper than before.

"Hey," Rick replied, a bit warily. It was rare for Turtle to seek him out, and due to her relationship with Negan, they'd never really been on the greatest of terms.

But this time, she felt like she had to.

Turtle sat down, holding Susan gingerly. Rick's eyes brightened when he saw the little girl, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I just wanted to stop by. Talk about some things," Turtle cleared her throat. "I never did thank you. For everything. When Negan and I needed help, you could have turned us away. But you didn't - you helped us, sheltered us, even when you had every reason not to."

"It was the right thing to do. We had to stand together," Rick replied, "The threat was bigger than any of us," he paused for a long moment. "Jesus was the main person pushing me to accept both of you. He said he felt responsible. He said the moment he rescued you he felt like couldn't let something happen to you."

"I guess I've made some friends," Turtle chuckled, shifting a bit.

"People like Daryl, Jesus, Carol and Maggie, even. They were able to see from the beginning that you aren't Negan. You were always different. It took me a while. It took Michonne a while, too."

"Is that why you shot Alpha and saved us?"

Rick didn't reply at first. He scratched the freshly shaven stubble on his chin and jaw. "Yeah. And her," he pointed to Susan. "When Carl and Lydia came back with her…barely a day old…I felt like I was back at the prison again. Carl lost his mom when she gave birth to Judith," Rick sighed. "I guess I didn't want that happening again. To you. This little girl needs her family."

"You're her family too, Rick. And I won't ever be able to repay you for the lives the Saviors took. And one day, Negan will say he's sorry. I know he will. It's just going to take some time."

Rick nodded. He pulled Turtle into a hug. She stayed there for a few moments, eyes closed, relishing the feel of Rick's arms around her and the soft, happy cooing of her daughter.

"We're going to improve things. All of us. No more war, for now. I can feel it."  
~ ~ ~

"Is she asleep?"

"For now. You know she'll wake up at, like, two in the fucking morning," Negan scratched his head. "One perk of the world ending - we don't have to work. No morning jobs, no fucking commutes…"

"Like you had to commute," Turtle scoffed, sitting up in bed. "The school was like, what, five seconds from your house?"

"Ten minutes, plus all the asshats on the road who didn't know how to fucking drive," Negan replied. Turtle chuckled as he crawled into bed, having kicked off his pants and removed his shirt and socks and boots. Turtle ran her fingers across the hard planes of his stomach, feeling each muscle tense beneath her touch. His breath was warm against her throat and he pressed his lips against her jugular.

"Don't have to worry about that anymore, either," Turtle sighed. "You know, next time - _oh._ "

One hand slipped beneath her panties, his thumb gently massaging her and drawing out a wetness that she'd nearly forgotten about. She arched into his touch, her muscles responding to the simulation.

"Keep fucking talking," Negan murmured, scooting downward, tugging her pants down with him. "Next time what?"  


"Do I have to talk?"

"I like hearing you talk," Negan purred against her skin. He ducked between her legs and Turtle hips bucked at the contact of his mouth against her aching clit.

"Next time we go on a run, I'm finding you a pair of gym shorts. Then I'm asking Rick if you can be Alexandria's fitness instructor."

"Holy fucking fuck."

"I'm joking," Turtle said, deadpan. Negan chuckled, working his mouth, and Turtle sighed, adding, "Although, you in shorts…"

"In your dreams," Negan replied, his teeth nipping at her skin. Her hips bucked again and she sincerely hoped she hadn't smashed him in his nose. The lack of profanity informed her that she hadn't, and she began to relax once more.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her body responding to Negan's hard sucks and his fingers - oh, he'd added a finger - two fingers - Turtle suddenly realized. She allowed a small whine to escape her, feeling the sudden buildup. She toppled over the edge in waves, body shuddering, adjusting to the feeling as if it were a foreign concept.

It had been so long.

"Uh-huh," Turtle snorted, gripping Negan's hair and tugging him upward. "Enough of that. Inside me - now."

"Je-sus. Someone's fucking bossy today," Negan hissed, grinning. "I always like it when you boss me around."

"Only during sex though, right? If not you're on diaper duty tomorrow."

"Gladly, milady," Negan's tugged at his own undergarments. "You'd make me do it anyway."

"Yep."

Negan kissed her. The gentleness was gone, for he no longer had to be careful. Their wounds were healed, their bodies recovered. It was a power struggle, now, teeth and mouths and hands (or in Turtle's case, hand) all over each other. Turtle didn't know how she'd gone so long without this feeling. The feeling of him, pushing into her and sighing as if he were in heaven. Murmuring into her ear, holding her.

"Fuck…love ya'," Negan mumbled against her skin. "I love ya."

"Love you, too," Turtle replied softly.

"Shit," Negan rolled off her, lying on his back, waiting for the euphoric feeling to pass. Turtle watched him, covers tugged up to her chin. He leaped from the bed, suddenly, darting over to the closet.

Turtle closed her eyes as he rummaged around. She opened them when she felt the bed dip a little, indicating that he'd rejoined her. She sat up, curious.

In his hand he held long, prosthetic arm made of steel. The parts had been polished, she realized, and it looked well made.

There was no way he could have found it. It looked to new - too assembled, almost, as if individual hands had crafted each section out of salvaged material.

"This is a gift from Eugene and Daryl. They worked on it a while back," Negan shrugged. "They wanted me to surprise you with it - Daryl said it was a gift for you freeing him that one time. Which, by the way, we still need to talk about-"

"Hey, what's done is done. Plus, be glad that you didn't kill him. He helped rescue us, remember?" Turtle scolded. She took the arm, marveling at it, running her fingers over the smooth metals. "This is amazing."

"I know. Looks fucking badass, too," Negan raised his eyebrows. "This'll help with Susan, too."

"Not until we baby-proof it. Wrap some foam around it or something," Turtle laughed. "I love it. I'll thank them tomorrow," she rested it lightly against the nightstand. "One hell of a gift."

"They're one-upping me in presents."

"Nah. I still have your scarf."

"You kept it?" Negan's eyes widened. "After all this time-"

"Yeah, it's in our closet, doofus. You passed it at least ten times," Turtle leaned over and pressed her lips against his. "I'm not getting rid of that thing, even if it has stains. Anything from you I'll keep."

"You're a fucking gem."

"I won't be when our kid wakes up," Turtle chuckled. "Now, rest. We'll never get enough of that - trust me."


	50. Final Contact

Turtle sat on one of Alexandria's many benches. Jesus had Susan in his arms, sitting cross-legged on the ground, Maggie by his side. Baby Hershel sat in her lap, chubby fingers gripping towards Susan. They were examining each other, figuring each other out. Hershel was only a few weeks older than Susan, and they were already becoming fast friends.

Turtle hoped that would give her and excuse to travel to Hilltop when the animosity blew over. It was just a matter of time.

She heard and felt footsteps before Negan eased himself down beside her, his crutch resting between his legs.

"Goddamn," he said. "I don't know how you do - did - it with one fuckin' arm and all."

"You get used to it. And yours isn't permanent," Turtle replied mildly.

"Neither is yours," Negan gestured to her prosthetic arm. It fit like a charm, the straps hugging her shoulder smoothly. She was still learning the ropes, figuring out the tricks, but for now, it felt amazing. Different and amazing. She hadn't thanked Daryl and Jesus enough, she felt.

She'd do something for them, one day.

"I talked to Rick. He and Maggie both are game," Negan said. "He and some others are scouting out Sanctuary tomorrow, seeing how bad the damage is. All we'll really need to do is reinforce the gate again, and clear out whatever roamers are left. Then we're all set."

Turtle smiled. "We're going to do it right this time."

"Yeah," Negan replied. "Yeah. We'll do it better than last fuckin' time. And we'll do it together. Leading alone is stressful as fuck."

"You didn't even have to ask," Turtle chuckled, leaning against his arm. "What kind of wife doesn't have her husbands back? We slay together, we stay together," Turtle said.

"That is so cliche."

"Hey, I'm not the best with words, alright?" Turtle leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You're better with words than I am."

"Oh, that's a fucking stretch, doll," Negan rolled his eyes, toying with his crutch. "I don't make good first impressions.

"Uh-huh."

"It's true! I mean, look at Rick for example. I bashed someones head in," Negan growled. "To make a statement. Not the best first impression, really."

"That's not how its going to be anymore, though."

"I've still gotta work on that," Negan sighed. He stared out across the lawn, towards Jesus and Susan, Maggie and Hershel. Carl was approaching with Judith, the girl, Lydia, close behind him. She was a shy girl, and she kept to herself. Turtle could tell that there was something else to her, a hidden part that needed to be uncovered before she could ever really, truly open up.

She reminded Turtle of herself. Her past self. When she'd first walked into Sanctuary, quiet, still coming to terms with the loss of her family. Before she'd had any idea of how cruel the world had become.

It took everything from you. Sucked you dry until there was nothing left except anger, resentment, and sorrow. Then it built you back up, but only if you allowed it to. Some of the ones who'd denied it, pushed it away, hadn't been lucky. Then again, maybe it had been fate. Maybe they hadn't meant to survive.

"I'm hopeful. I'm not nervous," Turtle said. "Well, okay, I'm nervous. I lied about that part. It's going to take lot, but we can do it. Maybe a miracle, of some sorts."

"I mean, the miracle part we already got down," Negan rumbled. "I've got you and Suzy. That's the miracle part for me," he paused. "Goddamn I sound fucking sappy."

"It was sweet," Turtle cooed. "Look at you, opening up."

"Wanna read my fucking diary next?" Negan asked, laughing when Turtle gave him a playful shove. "Didn't think so."

Turtle kissed his cheek once more, feeling his arm wrap around her and pull her close.

"Ah…" Negan sighed as Turtle rested her head against his chest. "Have I told you that I love you today? I'm trying to make it a daily fuckin' thing, you know."

"You are so full of shit. You just wanna get laid, don't you."

"Uh-huh."

"For the record, all you have to do is ask. And I love you too," Turtle scowled. "You kiss-ass."

"Aw c'mon. You love it."

"Okay. Okay, I do love it. You're still a loser, though."

"I'm your loser."

Turtle snorted. She saw Jesus wave to her, and the reach down and gently wave Susan's arm for her. Turtle waved back, a feeling of immense joy washing over her. All of this, it felt right. She felt at home. And it was planned. All of it - someone had watched out for her. Someone was still watching out for her - for them - and she had a pretty good idea there was more than one. There was four - a little girl, a kind-hearted teen, and two loving adults who'd been there from the very beginning.

And it was a miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I had such a blast writing this fic - it's funny because it was originally going to be about three chapters and then...the imagination started running wild XD anyway, thank you to all who gave kudos and reviewed or just followed the story! And a special thanks to crazyTXgradstudent, who'd an avid reader and gave me tons of support and kind messages while writing this (check our her stuff its amazing) I really appreciate all the positive feedback, it's a huge confidence boost, and hopefully I'll be able to write some more TWD fics in the future. 
> 
> Thank you all!


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